A Betting Man
by mybluesky
Summary: Edward makes a bet with Bella's ex, James, that he can bed her. Bella learns of the bet through a friend and decides to string Edward along for a bit and subsequently land herself a hot date for her friend's wedding. Things soon get very interesting...
1. Chapter 1

**Just two weeks before her best friend's wedding Bella gets dumped by boyfriend James when she refuses to give him what he wants. The next night she discovers he's made a bet with gorgeous pal Edward Cullen that he can't bed her. She brilliantly decides to string Edward along for a few weeks...and subsequently land herself a hot date for the wedding. Things soon get very interesting...**

**This story wouldn't get out of my mind...and I think I can have a ton of fun with it. Hope u enjoy, let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer**

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**A Betting Man**

Chapter One

I check my phone for the umpteenth time today - no missed calls, unless you count the one from my mother where she's left a message asking if I've seen her white pearl necklace. It's the one Phil bought her for their anniversary two years ago. Sorry, Mom...no luck here.

I sigh loudly, the noise unheard in the empty room. I finger the numbers on my phone, wandering if I should text him again...

Part of me is bummed that he's doing this. I feel let down - disrespected. Another part - the greater, scarier part - is pissed off something fierce.

James and I had gotten into an argument just yesterday when I'd told him, yet again, that I simply wasn't ready to sleep with him. Call me old fashioned, but we've only been going out for two months, and I'm still unsure where my feelings lie. It's not something I can really place my finger on - he's attractive and wealthy, funny and smart. But do I really want to be with someone who's going to get angry when I refuse to sleep with him?

Where's my knight in shining armor - the one who would wait a lifetime if it only meant he could be with me? Does he exist? Is he wondering where I am, too?

I'm starting to doubt it. I feel my expectations of men may be a little too high. It must be all the Jane Austen....

I faintly recall that Austen never married. Did she suffer the same problem as I?

I sigh again - it seems to release some of the tension - and pick up the phone, ready to dial. I'm torn between apologizing and ripping him a new asshole. Before I make up my mind, the phone rings in my hand, causing me to jump.

It's Rosalie, my confidant and best friend. I'm relieved to hear from her - maybe she can offer some advice.

"Hey babes," she greets me. "Have you called the dick yet?"

I may have told her about the little incident yesterday.

"I was about to," I answer. "I just have no idea what to say..."

"Tell him to go fuck himself, that's what you say."

God love her. She has the beauty of Aphrodite and the mouth of the dirtiest, one-legged sailor to boot. She really drives the men wild with that combination.

"You don't think I'm over-exaggerating? I don't want to seem crazy..."

"You'd seem crazy if you didn't dump him. I'm serious - call him, now." So demanding! She's just what I need at times like this.

"But then I won't have a date for Jake's wedding...." PA-THE-TIC. I don't need to hear Rose's comment to know how pitifully sad I am. I'm painfully aware that my last shred of dignity has just hopped the train to China, waving sadly at me as it fades from view.

But just to make things worse, Rose gasps...and then she's silent. So unlike her. I know this isn't going to be good...

If I could time travel, I'd definitely travel back thirty seconds and make myself less pathetic by keeping my big mouth shut. Yes, definitely.

"Bella," she says slowly, as if she's talking to a retarded person, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. I mean, are you really implying that you'd rather be with that douche then to show up to a wedding alone? Seriously? I mean...seriously?"

So much for pretending.

"That's not what I said. I was simply stating my grievance--"

"Well _my_ grievance is that you haven't dumped his sorry ass yet. Call him, now. And call me back when it's over, I wanna hear the details." She hangs up on me.

I glare at the phone. Damn her, she's right. I need to do this.

I quickly dial his number before I can chicken out. It rings once, twice...four times, then to voicemail. I'm fuming - is the asshole really avoiding me? - and I leave a message.

"Hello, _James_." I say his name like it's foul. "If you find time in the next month I'd really appreciate it if you'd call me back. We need to talk." I hang up without saying good-bye - _Ha! Take that_!

I guess there's nothing I can do until he calls back. I get up and make a tuna sandwich with extra pickles. I watch _Lost_ and _Happy Days_ before passing out on the couch, a bag of barbeque chips balanced precariously on my chest. Rose calls again, but the conversation is short when I have nothing to report.

I decide to go to bed and forget about him - maybe this was the easiest breakup in history? I guess I got it good...

I'm still uneasy, however. I'd probably feel better if I gave him a piece of my mind. I hate that he thinks he's better than me, the ass.

I change, brush my teeth and wash my face. I decide to just let it go for tonight, but as soon as my head hits the pillow my phone blares from the nightstand. I quickly pick it up and check the number - it's _him_.

Hmphf. He finally found the decency to call me back, huh? I answer: "Hello." It's a very unenthusiastic greeting - I don't need him thinking I'm glad to hear from him.

"Hey, Bella," he says. He sounds almost...bored? "Sorry I missed your call. I was busy."

"Well is there a reason why you decided to call me in the middle of the night, then?" I ask snidely.

"It's not the middle of the night, Bella...it's nine forty-five." _Shit_. I forgot it was so early. Doing nothing all night will do that to you.

"Well, I'm trying to sleep."

"Okay then...I'll let you go."

"Wait!" He pauses. "I think we need to talk, James." I hear him sigh.

"All right." His next words are slow and deliberate: "I don't think this is working out, Bella. I think..." He sighs, frustrated. "I think that we should see other people."

Wait...what??

"What?"

"I think we both want different things," he goes on. "This will be good for both of us."

I can feel my whole face heating in anger. How dare he!?

"Wait a second - you're breaking up with me...over the phone?"

"It's not exactly how I planned it--"

"Is this because I wouldn't sleep with you?"

"I never said that, Bella. Don't put words in my mouth, please."

"Oh, right, right. Because I'm sure you would've just taken what you wanted last night and broken up with me anyway, huh? Or maybe gotten one last round in before calling it all off and moving on?"

"Bella--"

"Rose was right about you," I huff. "You're an ass. I should've broken up with you weeks ago." I promptly hang up, determined to have the last word. _Asshole_...

To my dismay, he doesn't call back to apologize...or beg for my forgiveness, which a tiny, shameful part of me expected...and this only infuriates me more. Now I'm dateless and without pride. Feeling extremely bummed out, I send a quick text to Rose.

_You should be happy to know that it's over_.

I leave out the details - I'm frantically grasping what little remaining dignity I can. It's all slipping through my fingers at this point, slippery and hard to grip.

She texts me back: _That's my girl ;-)_

If she only knew.

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Jake and Rose take me out to the club the following night to help me forget about things. To "drown my sorrows," so to speak, although my sorrows are more of the red-hot-anger-variety. I have to love them, though, because they do try....and quite successfully at that. By my fourth drink I've forgotten all about him. I've forgotten about pretty much everything...

I'm not really a club-type of girl. I prefer my books and my writing. I enjoy quiet nights at home with a glass of wine and a date with Bronte. I watch marathons of _Lost _and _Law and Order_.

I realize I don't have the most exciting life in the world, but it suits me. I hang with Rose and Jake, I shop, I cook, I spend time with my family. I've never gotten too serious with a guy, having never found "the one," and sometimes I muse that I may be too uninteresting to catch his interest should he appear, anyway.

I've always been close to Jake growing up. His best friends, Quil and Embry, have teased me mercilessly over my lackluster love-life. This was the main reason I'd been so set on being with James during the wedding - I wanted to prove to everyone I could snag a decent guy if I wanted.

Of course, James turned out to be hardly decent...

What do I need to prove this for? I still have no idea. It's a simple desire, like the purchase of a shiny new car - it would shut them up and eliminate their construed misconceptions about me.

But are they really so misconstrued...?

The club is loud and dark, the table sticky from spilled cocktails. I'm sweaty from dancing - Rose had dragged me to the floor, and I'd surprisingly had a blast. It's amazing what a little alcohol can do.

I make quick use of the bathroom again. When I return I see that Jake looks a bit distressed, his brow furrowed in concern. When I question him, he pulls me to the side, where it's slightly quieter - though still deafeningly loud. He puts his lips right against my ear and shouts, "I've got bad news - don't get upset, though."

Uh oh. This can't be good. "What is it?"

"James is here."

_Crap_. Or, wait - is this a good thing? Maybe I can tell him off some more...

"And I was in the bathroom stall and heard him talking..." Jake goes on. "He was talking about you."

He watches me carefully for my reaction. Expecting an outburst, perhaps? I cock an eyebrow. "Oh...?"

He just nods.

"Well? What did he say?"

He looks like he doesn't want to tell me at first. He thinks better of it. "He actually has a friend with him - some sharp looking guy, and he was saying how you wouldn't go to bed with him. Then his friend was saying he'd never had that problem, and James bet the guy he wouldn't be able to get you into bed..."

I'm absolutely...mortified. That _asshole_!! I can't believe it. I knew he'd been lying last night..."Don't put words in my mouth, Bella," he'd said...Ha!

And what the fuck was Jake doing? Just standing there, shamelessly eavesdropping?

"Why didn't you say something?" I yell. "You know--stand up for a friend? Ever heard of that?"

"I was using the bathroom..." he looks embarrassed, yet it's impossible to see his russet skin flush in this darkness. I roll my eyes. Men are pathetic, I swear. "I'm telling you so you won't fall for it. I'll kick his ass if he touches you, Bella." He tries to sound threatening and tough.

It seems this conversation has sobered me up. I'm ready to leave. "Where's Rose?"

"Dancing, I think..."

"Well, I'm ready to go."

"Don't let this ruin your night, Bells. We were having so much fun! I'll buy you another drink..."

I sigh.

"Make it a double."

"Yes Ma'am!" He grins and scurries away to the bar.

I sit back down at the sticky table, careful to keep my elbows away, and consider dancing again. I finally spot Rose - she's in the middle of the floor dancing her ass off for a cute guy. At least I think he's cute - he must be if she's giving him the time of day. She only dances like that if she's really interested. I feel it wouldn't be wise to intervene. Maybe Jake will want to dance. His fiancé, Leah, is out of town for a conference. She knows we've been friends for years - and only friends. She understands our relationship and is never jealous.

Gosh, I love that girl. He couldn't have done better if he'd tried.

I feel someone come up behind me, so close I can feel the heat radiating from their body. I figure it's Jake and turn around, ready to claim my drink....only to come face-to-face with a startling pair of green eyes. Even in the darkness they're intense.

Intense and....beautiful. I refocus, noticing a handsome face with a strong, defined jaw, unruly bronze hair and sharp attire. He's dressed in fitted jeans and a snug black shirt.

I stare at him a moment, dazed by his beauty. Can a man be beautiful? I never knew it was possible... I realize my mouth is hanging open slightly and I hasten to close it.

He regards me with amusement, his eyes sparkling in silent laughter. I immediately feel embarrassed. I'm not sure what he wants. Before I can question him he leans over, so close to my ear I can feel his heated breath, and says, "Hi, I'm Edward Cullen. Dance with me?" His words are simple, and yet so slow and seductive...

I take a cleansing breath. I lean back, trying to regain my composure. This man...this..._God_-like creature...wants to dance with _me_?

I glance towards the bar and see Jake immediately. He's staring at us with wide eyes, and as soon as he meets my gaze he quickly whips his hand across his neck in rapid successions. A warning.

Understanding dawns. This is James' friend...

I'm extremely disappointed. Who knew James has such gorgeous friends? Such gorgeous, off-limit friends. Edward is watching me expectantly, patiently waiting. He has no clue that I know about his little bet. I'm unsure whether to call him out or refuse him nicely.

I decide on the latter. "I'm not really much of a dancer," I confess.

He shrugs, at ease. A crooked smile lights his face, and I gasp. He really is handsome.

"I saw you earlier," he says, leaning close to my ear again. His breath sends a welcome shiver down my spine. "You seem like a fine dancer to me."

I glance around again...what to do, what to do? I suddenly spot James at the bar. He's talking to the bartender, laughing at something he'd said. He takes a big swig of his beer, and a new fury alights inside of me.

That ass. The very sight of him enrages me. I can't believe I meant so little to him that he'd make this bet! Suddenly, an idea occurs. I bet he'd be surprised if I actually did take this juicy bit of bait...of course, I'd never sleep with him. I've obviously exercised my self-control before - I can do it again.

I wonder how long this Edward Cullen will be willing to put up with me. James lasted two months...could Edward last two weeks? I'd have the hottest date at the wedding and could perhaps have a bit of fun with him along the way.

I'm up to the challenge, Edward Cullen. I grin a little, amazed at my own brilliance. He leans in again.

"You never told me you name," he says. God, that voice...

I blink - easy, Bella! Why is he affecting me this way? "Bella Swan," I say, my voice shaky.

He smiles, once again taking my breath away. "Well, Bella. What do you say about that dance?" He holds his hand out to me - it's large and enticing.

I glance once more at James, and my decision is resolved. I stand and place my hand in his - a strange sensation shoots through me just from his touch. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced.

I smile at him, reeling in my confidence. Somewhere, behind me, Jake is standing with his mouth agape. I'll fill him in on the details later - right now, I'm on a mission.

"Sure."

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	2. Chapter 2

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Two

He leads me onto the dance floor, amongst the crowd of bodies and sweat and heat. His hand grasps mine firmly until we reach a suitable spot. He suddenly turns around to face me, our chests nearly flush. He's almost a full head taller than I. I stare up at him, into those intense green eyes, which now regard me shrewdly.

Involuntarily, I blush. What is going on...? No man has ever elicited such a reaction from me before. He grins. Can he see me flushing in the dark? The strobe light pounds over our bodies, giving me brief glances of his perfect face.

Suddenly, he pulls me flush against his body, and I gasp at the new contact. His hand is still grasping mine as he begins to move, his other hand sneaking to my hip - and he leads me. He's a great dancer. I realize that dancing is easy with a knowledgeable partner and some proper guidance.

Edward never breaks eye contact with me. I want to look around and find Rose, but I can't tear my gaze away. His eyes have captured mine, unrelenting and unwilling to release. He's the predator, and I'm the prey.

I lose my balance for a moment, nearly stumbling backwards in my heels - but before I can move away he's gripping me harder, pulling me tight against his body again. I'm embarrassed, but thankful that he's a good enough dancer for the both of us. I see silent laughter flickering in his eyes - stretching upwards.

I bring my lips closer to his ear and say, "I told you I wasn't a good dancer."

I inhale on the last word, getting a whiff of musk and spice and man. He smells delicious. I unconsciously lick my lips...

"You're doing great," he says, his words seductive again. Is he trying to talk this way? I figure he is - he's on a mission, too. I musn't forget that. "Trust me, Bella. I was watching you for a while - I couldn't take my eyes off you."

Wow. What a line...I'm sure he uses it often. He certainly isn't a beginner at this little game.

"Thanks," I mumble. I doubt he hears it over the loud music.

"I've never seen you here before - you come here often?"

"Not really. Just a few times."

"I guess that's good for me or else someone surely would've snatched you up by now."

Is he suggesting that he's "snatched me up?" The cocky bastard...well, two can play at this game.

I shrug my shoulders innocently. "I guess I'm not that easy to catch." He's probably reeling over what James has told him about me now...that should give him something to think about.

Before he can respond, I get bumped, rather harshly, in the back by another dancer. It pushes me even harder against his chest - if that's even possible at this point. I turn to glare at the offender and see that it's Rose, still dancing her ass off with a big burly man with dark, curly hair. She winks at me and mouths "Oh my God..." She's referring to Edward and his fine piece of ass.

I grin and turn back to Edward to witness him having a similar exchange with burly man...minus the "Oh my God" girliness. Do they know each other? This should be interesting...

I stretch up again, getting as close to his ear as possible. I greedily suck in his scent while I'm at it. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, he's a good friend of mine."

Oh good Lord. Did James include Rose on his little bet somehow? I may need to warn her...

A few songs later and we're both sweaty and panting. It's kind of...hot. I don't really want to stop, reveling in the feel of being pressed against this gorgeous stranger, but Edward has other ideas. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the bar. Both Jake and James are nowhere to be found.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, standing close to be heard. My mind spins. Oh no...what did Rose always say about accepting drinks from strangers? Would he sink so low as to...drug me...to get me into bed and win this bet?

I'm standing so close, surely I'd be able to catch him if he tried to slip something in. But I'm still wary, my paranoid subconscious taking over.

I'm also parched.

"I think I'm just going to have a water," I politely decline.

"Sure. Allow me." He calls the bartender over and orders - the water is placed in his hand and straight into mine. I watch it like a hawk and, seeing no evidence of funny business, take a small sip.

He'd ordered a water for himself, which he all but chugs. He's sweaty, and I can see a small bit of perspiration clinging to his neck. I have a sudden desire to lick it off...

Wait a second...what? _No, Bella_! I scold myself. I'm going to need a clear head if I plan to pull this off for two weeks.

He sets his glass, now nearly empty, on the bar.

"Do you live here in Seattle?" he asks me.

"Yes...not far from here." _Crap_! Why did I tell him that? Well, I'm sure he'll find out where I live eventually...

He grins. "That's great." Is it? "Would you like to go out sometime?"

Part of me - my sane, rational side - is telling me to run away screaming and get out of this before something stupid happens. But my other side - playful and daring - is wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, giving me a little push on the behind to urge me forward.

I never see that side of myself. Now that she's here, her presence is like a small, welcome breath of fresh air...

I smile flirtatiously. Flirtatiously!

"There's actually a place close to here I've been wanting to try - Palisade?" It's a fairly expensive restaurant located on the marina. I pose my statement as a question, wondering if he's game.

"I've been there," he says, unaffected by my choice. "It's very good. Can I pick you up tomorrow night?"

Hot damn. If nothing else I'll at least get a good dinner out of his arrogance.

"Is seven o'clock okay?"

"Seven o'clock sounds great," he says, crooked grin in place again. I have to look away - it's my only defense. I stare at my hands, cooled from the glass of ice water. I wonder if James is watching our exchange right now, hidden in the shadows like the little creep he is.

"Can I get your address?"

"Oh...sure." I grab a bar napkin, but I don't have a pen. I'm about to flag down the bartender when Edward stops me.

"Here - what's your phone number?" He has his cell phone out. "I'll call you so you have my number and then you can just text me the address."

He sure is confident - what if I never text him? I give him my number. When he has it saved he grins. "Got it."

I glance over and see that Rose and Jake are sitting at a table. Jake must have filled her in on what happened, because they're both glaring at me - _great_. I don't want them to ruin this for me - I need to go explain myself, pronto.

"I really need to get back to my friends," I say. "Thanks for the dance and the er...water."

He laughs. "No problem. It was a pleasure meeting you, Bella."

I love the way my name rolls off his tongue. I can imagine the way his sweet tongue caresses his palate as the "L"s come out effortless and seductive. Oh my...

"You, too."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, tomorrow." I smile despite myself, already looking forward to our little date. If nothing else it should be...interesting.

I walk away. I can feel his eyes on me all the way back to the table. Rose stiffens in my presence - as soon as I sit she leans over and hisses, "What the hell, Bella?"

I tense, defensive. "I can explain," I say hastily. Jake is shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes, please do," Rose grumbles. She crosses her arms and leans back, waiting for me to begin. My paranoia makes another appearance.

"I'll explain in the cab. You guys ready?" I take a huge sip of my water...please don't be poisoned...but how could it be? I watched the bartender make it - gah, paranoia, go away!

"Yes," she huffs, standing up. "I just _have_ to know what the hell you were thinking."

Together, we make our way outside and hail a cab. We cram inside - Jake in the front, Rose and I in the back. Rose immediately pounces.

"Spill the beans, Swan."

Sheesh...give me a moment. I eye the driver carefully, wandering if I want to divulge this crazy, messed-up part of my life with him here. Screw it.

"Well, Jake told me what he said, of course...about James. And I just figured...I dunno...that I could string him along for a little bit. Then I'd have a date for the wedding..."

Rose rolls her eyes. "Is that all you care about? Having a date for the wedding?"

"No! I mean, it _would_ be nice to have one..."

"Are you going to sleep with him?"

"Rose! Are you serious? You know me."

"Yes, but I never thought _you_ would do anything like this!"

"What's the big deal? I let him buy me dinner a few times, act like I'm interested. Then after the wedding, I kick him to the curb where he belongs."

"I just don't wanna see you get hurt, Bella."

I roll my eyes. "No worries, Rose. I know how he is...I'm not stupid enough to let myself get attached to him. It'll just be good fun."

She doesn't look convinced. Staring at her hands, she's thoughtful...and then unexpectedly she breaks out in a big, goofy grin. "You know what? You're right. You can really have fun with this. You should order the most expensive thing on the menu! Do you know where you're going yet?" It's like we're teenagers again - she's bouncing in the seat with glee. Jake rolls his eyes at her.

"Well, I don't think it's a good idea," he grumbles.

"Trust me - I plan on it," I confirm, feeling wicked. "We're going to Palisade...if he can get a reservation. I don't know. And don't worry, Jake. It's just for two weeks. I can take care of myself."

"If he touches you, let me know. I won't hesitate to whoop his ass."

"I'll keep you on speed-dial," I promise with a grin. I'm feeling good about my plan again - it only seems that much better with my two best friends here for support. This is going to be fun.

"Palisade - good choice. I've been there once. It's easy to rack up a high bill there." Rose approves of my dining choice.

I grin and nudge her. "So what about you and big burly?"

She cocks an eyebrow. "Big burly?"

"That guy you were dancing with."

"Oh! His name's Emmett. He seemed really cool - I gave him my phone number." She's all smiles again, looking slightly sheepish. This is so unlike her - she's never affected by a man and she _rarely_ gives out her number, preferring to take their number instead. That way, if she changes her mind by morning, she can chuck it and forget it ever happened.

Whoa - this Emmett must be some character. I hate to rain on her parade, but as a friend I have no choice. It all comes down to possibly protecting her from the evil doings of James. She at least deserves to be forewarned.

"I hate to tell you this, Rose, but he's friends with Edward. So just...be careful, okay?"

She's confused. "Who's Edward?"

"Edward...the guy..." I realize I'd never told them his name.

"Oh!" She looks slightly put out, but quickly regains her composure and forces a smile. "That's okay," she assures. "I can take care of myself, too." Her happy glow is still there, but it's now only a dull gleam.

The driver, who'd remained professionally silent, drops me off first. I make for the elevator and head to my apartment. It's a little place - small and cozy, with matching furniture and tons of pictures on the walls. I love pictures - they're the only thing that effectively mask the loneliness that's encompassed here. The loneliness which screams at me - "Bella, you're twenty-four. Why can't you find a decent man?"

I check my phone and realize I have a text from Edward. It was sent some time ago - probably right after I gave him my number.

_Save my number, beautiful. I'll be picking you up at seven sharp, just send the address. - E_

I smile, despite myself - I'm looking forward to our little "date" - and quickly text him back my address before chucking the phone on the kitchen counter.

I head straight for the bedroom, bypassing the loneliness - just for now - and go to sleep.

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**Hope u enjoyed! I know this chapter was a bit short...I tried to make it longer, but it was having none of it. Anticipate most chapters to be around the length of chapter one. It's either short and often or long and...not so often. I prefer it this way...disagree? Let me know what you think, I aim to please.**

**Next chapter in EPOV. We'll finally get inside the mind of the betting man...**

**Come check out this story on Twilighted - I'm posting chapters there first, for now.**

**-mybluesky**


	3. Chapter 3

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Three

EPOV

My phone beeps once...twice...a third time. What the hell? I groan and roll over, bumping into a warm body as I do - the woman stirs in her sleep but does not wake.

It takes me a moment to remember where I am. The covers smell different - like perfume - and there's too much sunlight streaming through the window. My room is never this bright. I look over and all I can see is a mass of tangled red hair and smooth, pale skin.

It comes back to me. The redhead - what's her name? Jenna, Jennifer, Jessica....fuck, I can't remember. I know it's starts with a J. Christ, I need to get out of here.

I slip from the sheets as stealthily as possible and begin to redress. The redhead doesn't stir - she's out cold. My phone is in my pocket - I want to check my messages, to see who is texting me so early, but my subconscious is screaming at me to get the hell out as quickly as possible and do that later. I never argue with my subconscious.

Once I'm outside, in the damp Seattle air, I let out a huge breath. I feel like I can breathe again. I quickly realize I have no idea where I am - outside of several tall apartment complexes - but I walk, resigning to figure out my location and call a cab when I'm a safe distance away. The last thing I need is for redhead to poke her head out the window and catch me trying to escape.

As I walk I check my messages. The first is from Bella and I grin - she's texted me her address. Nothing else. No "I can't wait for tomorrow" or "I'm looking forward to it". Not even a signature.

That's fine, I muse. James said she'd be a toughy. But if there's one thing I know about women, it's that they're all the same - work them for a bit, feed them a little bullshit, and they'll be eating out of your hand in no time. Apparently James had a problem with this girl, which was a shame because he'd supposedly been desperate to bed her. He claimed she wore a fucking chastity belt or something. But I gotta admit - any girl who rejects James is cool with me.

I have messages from two different girls, both sent last night, inquiring of my whereabouts. Then the last three, sent in consecutive increments, were from James.

_You fuck her yet? - J_

_Dude, don't ignore me just cause I was right. - J_

_Pay up - J_

Christ, that fucker is god damn annoying. I don't respond right away, and before I get around the corner he's texted me again.

_I see how it is. - J_

I text him back.

_Would you get off my back? We never said it had to be last night. - E_

_What's your strategy? - J_

_That's none of your concern - E_

_Well I hope it's good dude. Good luck - yur gonna need it for this broad. - J_

I sigh in annoyance and debate answering, finally realizing it isn't worth my time. I call a cab from the corner and return the phone to my pocket.

---

I pull up at the address Bella gave me at six fifty-five. It's an apartment complex on the middle-class side of town, nice but not extravagant. The landscaping is well kept and the exterior is clean. I park, expecting to go up and meet her, but before I cut my engine I see her suddenly stand from where she was sitting on the curb, in front of the entrance.

She's wearing a tight, pale-blue dress with white heels and a white purse. Her hair is down and wavy, falling to nearly the middle of her back. I get out of the car and she smiles when she sees me, her face flushing a lovely pink as she lowers her eyes to the ground.

She really is stunning - I can see why James tried so hard for her. The darkness from the club last night did not do her justice. This should be the most gratifying bet I've ever won.

I go around to the passenger side of my car, meeting her there, and open the door for her.

"Hello again, Bella," I say, giving my best charming smile - the one that always affects women. Bella's no different. She blushes - again - and quickly looks away. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she mumbles, sliding into the passenger seat. "You don't look so bad yourself."

I grin and close her door, making my way around to the driver's seat again. I'm wearing black slacks and a dark blue shirt with a tie and coat. It's the type of attire I wear all to often.

Inside the car, she's staring at her hands. She seems uncomfortable.

"Would you like to pick some music?" I ask, hoping to ease her tension.

She takes a deep breath, contemplating, and then perks up. "Sure," she says, smiling slightly. I take my ipod from the dock and hand it to her. While she's searching through the music I say,

"So, Palisade, right?"

"Yes."

"You've never been there before?"

"No. I've always wanted to try it."

"I think you'll like it. They have some of the best wine in Seattle. And the view there is lovely."

She nods, absentmindedly. "You have quite the extensive playlist here. The Beatles...Flo Rida...Bach?"

"It changes with my mood," I explain easily. "Bach is some of my favorite. It's...soothing, I guess."

She hums and nods her head. "Soothing...I could go for that right now. Here." She hands me back the ipod and I replace it in the dock, assuming I'm about to hear the soft melody of Bach - instead it's a quick tempo, a male voice...

_Lay where you're laying, don't make a sound  
I know they're watching, they're watching  
All the commotion, the kiddie like play  
Has people talking, talking_

_Sex on Fire_ by Kings of Leon. What the hell? I look at Bella and she's staring straight ahead, at the road, bobbing her head slightly to the beat with a small smirk on her lips. I can't help but grin - it looks like winning this bet is going to be easier than I thought.

"Sex on Fire?" I ask her, highly amused and slightly intrigued.

She grins. "It's one of my favorite songs."

"I see."

"You said I could pick the music. And it's on _your_ ipod."

"I know, I know." I wish, more than anything, that I knew what she was thinking...

The restaurant isn't too far from her apartment. I'd managed to get us a reservation, thank God - the last I need is to start this...thing...out terribly by not taking her to the restaurant she chooses. I park and get out to open her door for her, taking her hand to help her stand. When our hands touch it's like an electric current passes through my arm, traveling upwards...a slow warmth that settles in my chest. It's...strange. I'd felt it last night at the club but figured I'd just had too many drinks and was imagining things.

I can't help but let my eyes travel over her body, appreciating the way the silky blue material hugs her behind and ends just as it reveals the top of her breasts - only a slight bit of cleavage can be seen. Modest and intriguing, leaving the mind yearning for more. She has a great body. Hopefully it won't be too long before I can see it, revealed...

The Palisade is one of the more high-class restaurants in Seattle. It's located on the marina, giving a spectacular view. I wasn't surprised Bella chose this place - she's not the first girl to choose such a high-end restaurant, especially once they discover I can afford it, but she's one of the very few that I've accompanied to such a place.

Most girls only get the pleasure of my company in bed.

We're seated and given our menus. A server comes to take our order, a pretty young girl, and she flushes when she sees me - Bella witnesses her reaction and eyes her carefully.

I turn to Bella. "Do you drink wine?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"Pinot Noir?" She nods, and I order us two glasses. The server scurries away.

Bella immediately begins pouring over the menu. I've eaten here before - I already know what I want - so I watch her carefully instead, noting the way she bites her bottom lip thoughtfully as she reads.

She glances up, suddenly, and catches me staring at her. She flushes.

"What?"

I smile. "Nothing. Do you know what you want as an appetizer?"

"The lobster and crab dip sounds good."

"That is good. I've had it."

"Oh really? What else is good, then? You seem to come here plenty."

"The Palisade's Pupu Tower is actually my favorite."

She grins then, her entire face lighting up as she regards me humorously. I can only stare - she has a beautiful smile...wait a second, is she making fun of me?

"What?" I ask, defensively.

"Say that again," she prompts.

"Say what again?"

"Pupu."

She _is_ making fun of me. At least she has a sense of humor - I like that. And she's not giggling brainlessly over every word I say - I like that, too. I decide to tease her.

"I don't think so," I say. "I think you've had enough fun at my expense."

"Come on...please? You'll have to say it again when you order."

The server interrupts us by delivering our wine. When she inquires about appetizers I say, "The lobster and crab dip, please."

"Are you ready to order your entrees or would you like another moment?"

I look at Bella - she's thoroughly disappointed about my order. When she realizes I'm waiting to see if she's decided on her entree she quickly straightens and says, "Oh, God no. I've never been here. I need a few minutes, please."

"Of course." The server leaves again.

Bella takes a sip of her wine, her eyes locked with mine. "Well that wasn't fair," she says. "I really wanted the pupu platter."

I smile. "Now you said it."

"Said what?" she asks innocently.

"You know."

"You mean pupu? I said it earlier. It just seems...strange...coming from you."

I'm intrigued. "Strange? How so?"

She shrugs and turns to her menu again. "I dunno."

She asks of my opinion for an entree and eventually decides on the Live Maine Lobster. The server takes our menus and we're left with nothing as a buffer. Bella picks at her cloth napkin, her eyes lowered. I hate uncomfortable silences. Time to work some magic...

"So, Bella." I lean towards her, to show her I'm interested. "What do you do?"

She raises her eyes slowly to my gaze. Like depthless pools of chocolate, they bore into mine.

"I'm a copy editor for The Seattle Times," she answers. I already know this - one of the few details James had provided last night at the club.

"The Seattle Times - that's a big job."

She shrugs. "I like it. I like editing."

"How long have you worked there?"

"Just over a year."

"What about your parents?"

She eyes me warily. "What about them?"

"What do they do?"

She seems thoughtful for a moment. She's picking at the cloth again... "My mom lives in Florida with her husband Phil. She does a little bit of everything - she goes through these phases. Right now I think she's in school to be a massage therapist..." She scrunches her nose, trying to remember.

"Your mom and dad are divorced?"

"Yes."

"What about your dad? What does he do?"

"He's the chief of police in Forks."

"He's not married?"

"No. He's not very...social."

I hum in acknowledgment and take a sip of my wine - Bella jumps at the opportunity and asks,

"So what about you? What do you do?"

"I'm the CEO of Cullen Financial Group in Olympia."

She just...stares at me. Her expression is unreadable. Then she silently lifts her wine glass to her lips and takes a very healthy sip. I stay silent during this time, watching her closely, waiting for her response.

She clears her throat and sets her glass down - it's almost empty.

"So, umm...CEO," she says.

"Yes."

"Do CEO's always go out clubbing in their spare time? Doesn't seem very professional." She now regards me with disdain. Did I do something wrong? She downs the rest of her wine.

"Would you like another?" I ask, referring to her empty glass.

She nods. "Please."

I call the waitress over and order us both another glass. The appetizer arrives before the wine, and we begin eating in silence. Bella is the first to speak again.

"You never answered my question."

Shit...I rack my brain, trying to remember the question to which she's referring...oh right, the clubbing thing.

"You mean about the clubbing?" She nods, and I shrug my shoulders in indifference. "It's why I come to Seattle...to maintain that _professionalism_, so to speak. And actually, Bella," I lean close again, speaking softly, "since I own the company I can do whatever the hell I want."

I hear her sharp intake of breath as she leans away from me. She's eyeing me warily. She looks almost...nervous?

"Well," she stutters, "I guess you can't beat that." She takes another long drink of wine...damn, she needs to slow down before I have to carry her out of here.

A few minutes later and our food comes. Bella digs into her plate like it's her last meal - it's a little refreshing to see a woman order something besides a salad.

"So," says Bella, "Do you live here, then? Or in Olympia?"

"Both."

"Both?" I nod. "So you drive back and forth? Why not just get a hotel here?"

I smile politely at her ignorance. "Having my own apartment feels more like home."

She nods in understanding. "So what about your parents?"

I tense, slightly - I don't really feel like revealing that fucked up part of my life. Not with her. But I can't completely shut her out, either, or else she won't trust me.

She's watching me shrewdly, no doubt puzzled by my reaction. I sigh.

"I'm adopted, actually."

"Okay..." she says slowly. Her tone quickly turns casual again. "So what about your adoptive parents, then?"

"Well Esme is an interior decorator and Carlisle is a surgeon."

"What kind of surgeon?"

"General."

"Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"Yes, I have a sister."

"What does she do?"

"She's in school for fashion. She wants to be a designer."

"Where does she go to school?"

Fuck at the twenty questions...I'd much rather have the attention turned back to her. She's relentless, though - I can't get a question in edgewise.

"In San Francisco. She goes to the Art Institute. What about you - any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. Only child. How do you know Emmett?"

Christ she's persistent...wait a second..."How do _you_ know Emmett?"

"I don't, but he was feeling up my best friend all night."

"Who? The blonde?"

Bella glares at me. It's actually kind of...cute. Making her mad could be kind of fun...

"Her name is _Rosalie,"_" she snaps. She stares at me expectantly. "Well?"

"We've been friends since high school," I answer. She seems content with my answer, returning her attention to her plate again. She's nearly wiped it clean.

"So you say your mother is from Florida and your father is from Forks - what brings you to Seattle?"

"The Seattle Times," she answers quickly. "And I didn't want to be too far from my dad."

I raise an eyebrow. "You and your mother not get along?"

"No, no, we do," she assures. "But she has Phil and gets to travel and Charlie...he doesn't really have anyone..." She suddenly looks uncomfortable, which is interesting. "I dunno," she mumbles.

"I understand," I say. "It's nice that you want to be near your family."

The server comes to collect our plates and Bella orders another glass of wine and a Chocolate "Lovers" Cake for us to share. She's loosening up - she sits back in her seat and lazily pats her stomach while complaining that she's stuffed. Then the cake arrives and her eyes grow as big as saucers.

"Holy shit," she says, so loudly that a guest at a nearby table looks over, affronted, "I think I've died and gone to cake heaven."

I laugh. "Maybe you should try it. You know - never judge a cake by it's frosting and all that." I go to hand her a spoon but she takes me by surprise by quickly sitting up, leaning in, and dipping a finger deep inside the center of the chocolate mouse. She brings it between her lips and moans, sucking her finger seductively, her eyes fixed steadily on mine...

Holy...fuck...

Damn, this girl is going to be fun. I bet she's a Goddess in the bedroom. I'm extremely thankful she refused James, as I'd never willingly go where that fucker's been. How did she even consider seeing that guy, anyway?

"God," she says, moaning again. "That's _so_ good." She chases the chocolate with a large srink of Pinot Nior. "Aren't you going to have some?" she asks innocently.

I clear my throat and shift, feeling my erection straining uncomfortably against the fabric of my pants. Holy shit, I need to relax. Think of something gross...James...James...Katrina Bobbitt... Emmett's hairy toes...

I quickly take a bite, hoping to play off my little moment. Bella's watching me closely, a tiny smirk on her lips - God, what I'd do to get inside that head of hers right now. What is she thinking?

"Good, huh?" she prompts, smiling widely. She uses the spoon and takes a big bite of her own.

"Mmm hmm," I moan, and because two can play at this game I lean close, my voice low, and add, "It's quite..._orgasmic_."

Her breath hitches and she flushes and lowers her eyes. Back to the wine again - she downs what's left.

"Would you like another glass of wine?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow. Perhaps I should have gotten her her own bottle. She quickly shakes her head.

"No, I think I've had enough."

We both eat a bit more as the server drops off our check and I pay. While waiting for her to return my card, Bella takes a particularly large bite and gets some chocolate in the corner of her mouth. She leaves it there, oblivious.

I find myself wanting to lick it off. Then perhaps we can do more with the chocolate...

Will she be game tonight? She certainly doesn't seem sexually repressed...first the song and then the chocolate cake foreplay. Is the main event drawing near?

Her tongue suddenly darts out, licking up the chocolate, and I blink and look away before I'm caught blatantly staring again. My actions need to be stealthy tonight.

The server returns my card. I tip and we leave. The night air is chilly - as soon as we step outside a crisp breeze assaults us, whipping Bella's hair across her face. She throws her head back, struggling to toss her hair behind her, and I realize she's in nothing but a thin, short, sleeveless dress.

Beautiful, but not practical. I shrug out of my coat and hand it to her. "Here," I say.

She brushes off my thoughtful gesture. "I'm not cold," she refuses, and shivers.  
"You're a terrible liar, Bella."

She rolls her eyes and reaches for the coat - I step behind her, slipping it on her arms. It's huge on her - she almost looks naked beneath it, her dress just barely poking out at the hem. It's quite a sight to behold - it sends my imagination spinning into overdrive.

"It'll be warm in the car," she continues to argue. Why? I have no idea...she's already wearing the coat. I've already won.

"What kind of man would I be if I let my date freeze?"

"A pretty ordinary one," she promptly answers. We reach the car and I open the passenger door - she slips lithely inside.

I join her, quickly starting the engine and turning on the heater. "You've never been on a date with a real man, then."

She shrugs. "Depends on your definition."

"Oh? And how would you define such?"

She grins slyly. "A real man would never let a woman out-eat and out-drink him, and certainly not all in one sitting."

I laugh. "True. Not very lady-like of the woman, though," I tease.

"Or just pathetically sad for the man - however you choose to see it."

"I guess I'll need to wear by buffet pants the next time we dine."

"Next time?" She raises both eyebrows inquisitively. "Someone sure is self-assured."

"Just hopeful," I correct, smiling lightly at her. She seems surprised at first, but quickly relaxes and gives me an easy smile of her own.

We reach her apartment and I park. She begins to remove my coat, but before she has the chance to undress - or say goodbye - I've cut the engine and stepped out of the car. Startled, she whips her eyes up to meet mine, through the windshield.

She looks taken aback when I open the door. I hold my hand out to her - she just stares at it as if it's something awful.

"What are you doing?" she asks, wide-eyed. What's her deal?

"Walking you to your apartment, of course."

"You don't have to do that..."

"Come on, Bella. What kind of man would I be? I'm not going to let you freeze on the way inside, and I really do need that coat before I return to Olympia tomorrow."

She hesitates, but finally places her hand inside of mine. "You're going back to Olympia?" she asks, stepping out of the car.

"A man has to work, doesn't he?"

She doesn't respond, and we walk side-by-side into the front lobby of her apartment, her hand still in mine. She seems tense all of a sudden. I can't place this new reaction from her. I halfway expect her to shove me off as soon as we step inside, but she allows me to accompany her up the stairwell, to an apartment door labeled "2303". Once there, she turns to look at me, shrugging out the coat.

"Well, this is my door," she mumbles, shoving the coat into my chest. "Thanks for the dinner. Um - I'll call you?"

She obviously found humor in her words because she grins crookedly at me. Damn this girl has some crazy mood swings.

"I'd like that," I say.

"Good. Well, um, I should probably go."

Now she seems desperate to get away. Maybe this is where James had problems - fuck I need to quit thinking about him.  
She turns to go, but I stop her. It seems pretty obvious she isn't going to invite me inside, but I need to do...something. "Bella." She pauses and looks at me. "I really had a great time tonight. Thanks for agreeing to go out with me." She nods and I lean in, slowly, wandering if I should kiss her on the cheek or go for the whole shebang...and yet suddenly my lips are an inch from hers...no, scratch that - mere _centimeters_ - and I can practically feel that strange sensation on my lips, leaping from her skin to mine in the close proximity. She's stopped breathing - frozen and longing. I lean closer, the pull increasing...

And suddenly she's gone, her face snatched from mine in a hasty retreat. "OkayIgottagothanksbye." Her rushed words are cut short as she slips inside and slams the door in my face.

What...the...fuck...

* * *

Hello lovely ladies...

So this chapter isn't on Twilighted yet, as I said before, but it's taking a little more time to get posted there and I wanted it to be available to you as quickly as possible...I'm not really one to want to hang on to it when I know there are some of you who really want to read it.

Anywho, as I'm posting there as well...I really need a beta. I've never written fanfiction before and I'm not really sure how to go about getting one, but if anyone's interested then please for the love of God PM me. I need help. It would really speed up my updating time and I'm actually getting paranoid that I'm gonna post something that really sucks...so yeah.

Hope you enjoyed, as always please let me know what you think. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far, I love getting them and smile like a jackass every time I do.

-mybluesky


	4. Chapter 4

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Four

BPOV

Holy...fuck...

I lean against the door, breathing heavily. What the hell was that? He was about to kiss me and I...wanted it. Jesus Christ! You're a bet, Bella! A _bet_!

I obviously lost it out there. I can't let that happen again.

I turn and peek out the peephole. He's gone. _Phew_...

I'd promised Rose I'd call her as soon as the date was over to divulge all the details - it had been her idea to do the whole finger-sucking thing. It totally wasn't something I'd do. She claimed she did it once to a boy in highschool and they nearly went at it right there on the table. _Little slut_ - God, I love her. Her information is so valuable right now.

I feel completely sobered since that near kiss in the hallway. I need...something. I fish some Merlot from my closet and pour a healthy glass before ringing Rose.

She answers on the first ring and without so much as a greeting exclaims, "Oh thank God. You're still pure."

_What??_ "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I just worry about you sometimes, Bella. I'd hate to see you get lured in by evil."

I roll my eyes. "There was no _luring_. I'm fine. I'm at home..._alone_. You really need to give me more credit."

"I give you tons of credit; otherwise, I wouldn't let you go out with him."

_Let_ me? Hold up! "I wasn't aware that it was your decision."

"Sure it is - I could've called you both out at the club and completely ruined everything."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Okay, I need some details, stat - I'm coming over."

"Wait - where's your boy toy?"

"He just left." Ooh...interesting! "I'll be there in ten. You got wine?"

"Already on it."

I change into pajamas while waiting for her to arrive. I'm standing barefoot in the kitchen pouring her a glass of Merlot when I hear the door knob jiggle - I usually leave the door unlocked and she just flies right in. This time, I realize I subconsciously locked it after the near kiss, lest Edward should barrel inside and have his way with me...or the other way around. _Fuck_!

She immediately starts pounding on the door. "Bella!"

"Coming!" I shout. I swing the door open, wine in hand as sort of a peace offering. She looks highly affronted at being locked out. Is it a crime to lock my door now? Shouldn't I be playing it safe?

"Why is your door locked?" she asks. She steps inside and takes the wine. She's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her hair pulled up in a sloppy ponytail, yet she still looks like she just stepped off the runway.

"Um, it's kind of a long story."

"Alright, you should probably get started then." She takes a long sip of wine and sits at the barstool, eyeing me...sheesh! _Always so demanding._

"I'll need you to spill some goods, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Emmett. I need to know what the hell you guys did all day."

"You first."

"Well I learned he's a CEO of a company in Olympia."

"Yeah, Emmett told me that."

"And he's adopted."

"Yep, told me that too."

"Lord! Why don't _you_ tell _me_ about Edward, then!"

"Relax, that's all he really said. Believe or not, we didn't sit around talking about _your_ scheming ass all day."

"Your ass is just as scheming as mine," I say defensively.

"So did you do the finger sucking thing?" She's grinning like the devil, her elbows resting on the bar as she leans closer to me.

"I did."

"And...?"

I giggle. "I think it worked!" I exclaim, remembering the look on Edward's face as I worked my magic. I was thoroughly surprised I had managed to elicit such a reaction. Who would of thought me, innocent Bella Swan, actually had some sexual talent? Granted, I didn't give him a mind-blowing orgasm or anything...crap! I can't think of Edward and orgasms together...

Rose squeals in delight. "I knew it!" she says. "No straight man can resist that shit. What did he do?"

"Hold up," I say, serious again. "I need to hear some information concerning big burly now."

"Oh good Lord," she says, rolling her eyes. She obviously isn't happy at being denied her gossip. But then she perks up again and I figure she must be thinking of Emmett. "We actually didn't do much. We just...stayed at home," she says, very coy. She avoids my eyes.

"Rose! Tell me you have not already slept with him!"

"What?" She's offended. "If you like the person sex can be...beautiful."

Beautiful, huh? This is so unlike Rose. She's been with her fair share of men - she's certainly not a virgin - but she just doesn't put out for any old fellow. Just like she doesn't dance her ass off for any old fellow. This Emmett must be quite the character. It seems she's completely ignored my warning from last night.

"Was it?" I ask, wondering if their sex was "beautiful".

"Beautiful? Try out of this world picturesque."

Oh my! We both giggle.

"Have you been getting a word of the day from thesaurus dot com again?"

"Shut up! Now what did Edward say? You have to tell me. I'm dying over here."

"Well after he...recovered...he took a bite of the cake and said it was 'orgasmic'..."

Rose gasps. "Nu-uh!" She starts laughing hysterically. This is so much fun.

After we recover she gets down to business again. "Okay, so why was the door locked?"

"Can't a girl lock her door? I live alone."

"Cut the crap, Bella. Spit it out."

Geez...okay. "He umm...he kind of tried to kiss me." I look down, feeling suddenly shy. Rose's outburst startles me.

"Holy crap!" She's wide-eyed with surprise. "Did you kiss him?"

"No! I ran inside and locked the door like a crazy person!"

"Good. Total perv...it's just the first date, for crying out loud."

"You and Emmett are already fucking," I point out.

"That's different. You're a bet to him, Bella. No matter how good looking he is, it doesn't change _how_ he is."

I know she's just trying to protect me, like any good friend would, but the words sting a little when coming from an outside source. And I've only gone out with him once!

"I know that," I grumble, suddenly feeling miserable. Christ, this Edward Cullen is too smooth for my own good. I need to man up and snap out of it.

---

The next day is Sunday. I sleep in, having no plans for the day. When I finally roll out of bed at ten o'clock, I see that I have a text message from Edward. Hmm...this should be interesting. I lay in bed for a good hour last night wondering if I would ever hear from him again after my little escape-artist stunt.

I read the message:

_Good morning, beautiful. Hope you slept well last night_ - _E_

Oh, he's smooth. He's like a professional at this game. And here I am, a novice, playing with fire; I can feel the heat. If I'm not careful, I'll get burned.

I sit on my bed and think for a moment - my brain is much slower to wake than my body - and finally reply:

_Very well. I had some interesting dreams...you_? _- B_

That should give him something to think about. Rose would be proud. She's really rubbing off on me.

No more than a minute passes when my phone beeps.

_Care to share? - E_

I grin and type my response.

_Sorry, I don't dream and tell - B_

_That's no fun. What r u doing today? - E_

_Nothing. It should be gloriously relaxing. - B_

_Will you have lunch with me today? - E_

Geez, even his texts seem seductive. Or maybe I'm just reading them that way. And he's already trying again. I should have known he'd be persistent.

_That would get in the way of my plans - B_

_You said you were doing nothing - E_

_Doing nothing is a plan... - B_

_I'm not above begging. I want to see you again before I leave - E_

_That's not very manly. And I thought you'd already be in Olympia by now - B_

_I'm leaving tonight. And you've already made your point that I'm not a real man - no need to rub it in - E_

_Ha! Well the first step is admitting you have a problem - B_

_Bella? - E_

_Yes? - B_

_Will you please have lunch with me today? - E_

_Edward? - B_

_Yes? - E_

_Yes. - B_

_---_

I chastise myself as I pull up outside of Anthony's, located - once again - on the Waterfront.

_The next time he asks you if you're doing anything, the answer is YES! _

I have to seem interested if I want him to stick around for two weeks. I have no idea of the terms of the bet. I have no idea how long he's willing to try before throwing in the towel. But I do know, with certainty, that I need more time before facing him after last night's near kiss. I've not nearly recovered yet.

He's waiting for me near the entrance of the restaurant. He's wearing jeans and a snug, dark green shirt which shows off the biceps of his toned arms. His hair is its usual disarray, possibly more-so as he stands in the Seattle wind.

He looks...delicious. I drink him in.

He gives me that damn charming smile again as I approach. I try my hardest to keep my head up and maintain eye contact. Calm and confident...calm and confident...

"Hey Bella," he greets me, still smiling. "You look beautiful. As usual."

I went a bit more casual this afternoon, wearing jeans and a yellow, feminine blouse. I have it paired with pretty sandals with no heels - my favorite kind. It was a miracle I didn't land on my face at some point during our date last night.

I return his smile. "And you don't look so bad yourself. As usual."

He laughs, extending his elbow to me, and I link my arm through it. "You ready for some good seafood?"

"Yes, I'm starved! I hope you're wearing your buffet pants."

"These are my loose jeans," he says, and winks. I have to grip his arm a little tighter to keep from swooning.

We're seated and we order fairly quickly, I've been here before and it seems he has been as well. It's just plain old water as my beverage - I need a clear head while I'm around this man today.

I spot two girls - seated at a small table a few feet away - glance at Edward several times, then turn to one another and whisper excitedly. They do it again and again, very blatant with their behavior. They're gawking at him for crying out loud!

Edward seems oblivious to their behavior at first, but he eventually catches one girl's eye and smiles politely. Both girls erupt into a childish giggling fit. It's no wonder he's so conceited. I use all of my restraint to keep from rolling my eyes, but Edward still senses a change in my demeanor.

He raises an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I quickly assure, but he eyes me skeptically, unconvinced. I confess: "They're pretty rude, you know."

"Those girls?"

"Yes. You're on a date."

"A date I had to beg you to go on."

"That's beside the point. Should I be expecting them to come ask to take a picture with you soon? Maybe let them borrow my pen so they can give you their phone numbers?"

He grins widely, looking extremely pleased with himself. "Bella Swan...are you jealous?"

I huff. Jealous that another woman is gawking at the man-whore? I don't think so. "No."

"It's okay if you are," he says smoothly. "I'd be jealous too if men were checking you out. Like at the club - I was jealous then."

"What are you talking about?" I snap. For some strange reason I'm as sour as a lemon now. Edward isn't deterred by the tone of my voice - if anything, his grin widens.

"Men were checking you out constantly. You didn't notice?"

I don't know if he's just trying to placate me or not. "No."

"And you danced a lot with that big guy, the Native American."

I roll my eyes. "That was Jake. He's about to get married."

"Oh, good." He seems to relax a bit. "One less guy to worry about."

Yes, Edward, one less guy to get in your way on your mission to win this bet. Hurray for you.

Those girls leave right around the time our food arrives, thank gosh, because they were distracting the hell out of me and Edward seemed to be deriving a lot of joy from my discomfort. I dig into my food; I didn't have breakfast this morning and I'm starving.

"So, you and Jake - you're friends?" Edward asks me, his green eyes fixed on me again. As soon as I swallow my enormous mouthful of food I answer.

"Yes."

"How long have you known each other?"

"Our whole lives. Well, his whole life. He's two years younger than me. Our dads are best friends."

"How old are you, anyway, Bella?"

"Twenty-four. How old are you?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Geez, that's pretty old," I tease him.

"You know what they say about men - we get more handsome as we age."

"Is that right? Is this before or after you go bald and get a beer gut?"

"Some women like their men bald," he counters.

"I know I do. Looks like we have a problem here..." I reach across the table and ruffle his hair. Damn, it's soft...he smirks and tries to smooth it down, but of course it doesn't help.

"You don't like my hair?" he asks innocently.

Truthfully, his sex-hair is possibly his best feature...aside from his jaw. And his eyes. And his toned arms...damn it, I don't know.

But his ego is big enough - no need to feed it more. "It's okay," I answer, aloof.

He smirks but lets it go. I bet he knows I'm lying. _Tricky, womanizing bastard. _

He asks me a few more questions about my family, such as about Phil's career and what my father is like. I shamelessly clear my plate again and, unsurprisingly, so does he. Neither one of us had alcohol so we agree that it was a draw - this time.

He suggests we go walking along the waterfront and I reluctantly agree. Not that spending time with him is a chore; it's really not, and by George he's the best eye candy a woman could ask for, but I still don't trust him not to try another sneak attack like before. But my mind is clear, alcohol free, and I'm ready for any sudden tricks.

The waterfront gives us a gorgeous view of the city and marina - it's one of my favorite places in Seattle. Tall, beautiful buildings on one side with the gorgeous ocean on the other. Trendy restaurants and shops dot our walk. We stop for some Italian ice and continue our easy conversation from before.

As we make our way down the street, I see it - a scooter rental. I'd ridden a scooter before, years ago, during a trip to Seattle with Jake and his father. Jake had done most of the driving, but when I drove it wasn't terribly hard. It was actually a lot of fun.

I wonder if Edward is too suave to ride a scooter. How badly does he want to win this bet, really? I plan to find out.

I put on my best excited-little-girl-face. "Ooh, scooters! I _love_ scooters!"

Edward looks to where I'm gesturing, impassive. "Yeah, they're fun," he agrees.

"Can we rent one?"

"Right now?"

"Yes! Why not...are you ready to leave?"

"No," he says. He looks uncertain. "I mean...yeah, we can rent one. If you want."

"Yay! Let's go! Are we going to share one? I wanna drive first!"

I practically drag him along. It only takes us a few minutes to get our scooter, helmets, and a brief course in the mechanics of the scooter: how to stop, go, turn, etcetera. Edward doesn't look nearly as excited as I do about this little adventure. Inside, I'm cackling gleefully.

He moves to get on the scooter but I swat him away. "No! I said I want to drive first."

"Have you ever driven one?" he asks, reluctantly stepping away.

"Yes. Have you?"

"A few years ago."

I don't tell him that it's been a few years for me, too. Nor that I only driven one once...and that I had a huge teenager on the back commanding my every move. "Alright, then. So I get to drive."

He sighs. "Fine."

"This isn't very manly for you either, you know," I tease.

"Just get on the scooter, Bella."

I get on and quickly realize that Edward is going to be crammed, rather tightly, against my back. Holy crap! Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more. I'll be able to feel every inch of him.

He gets on and yes, I can feel every warm inch. His body fits deliciously against mine. He wraps his arms around my waist and leans in close.

"Hmm, I rather like this," he says alluringly.

I blink and clear my throat, extremely glad he can't see my face right now. "I told you so. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'm going to be."

I take that as my cue and slowly press the gas. The scooter takes off like lightening, nearly throwing us both backwards. Holy Jesus Christ! I quickly slam on the brakes and the whole thing topples sideways. The scooter operator is watching us, laughing hysterically, and poor Edward is all in a tizzy.

"Christ, Bella!" he shouts. "I thought you knew how to drive!"

"I do! That was a warm-up." We both right the scooter and I hop back on.

"Maybe you should let me drive," Edward suggests. From his tone I can barter that he's not gonna be willing to let me have my way anymore, but I don't give in that easily.

"Just one more time. Just let me practice."

"You're gonna kill yourself - and me, for that matter."

"Don't be such a baby. You're wearing a helmet."

"Bella..." he warns. He does _not_ look happy.

"One more time? Please? I promise I'll do better." I give my best pouty face...and by George, it works! He sighs and climbs back on behind me.

"_One_ more time," he says, stressing the "one". "And please try to be careful."

"Yes sir," I say sarcastically. He's pressed into me again and geez is it distracting. I press the gas, even slower this time, and have much more success - the scooter takes off at a much more manageable pace. Edward seems satisfied. I can feel him relax infinitesimally against me, although he's still very tense.

We get going smoothly down the road. I feel pretty sure of myself. This is just as fun as I remember!

"I told you I could drive," I call out to him.

"Yes, you're doing better."

"Say you're sorry."

"For what?"

"For yelling at me."

"I never yelled at you!"

"You did a little."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Bella. You were stressing me out."

"Understandable. I forgive you."

He scoots closer to me. Holy crap, there isn't a fraction of an inch of space between us now. I can feel his...oh no...tell me it isn't his...

I semi-panic and move to turn right, onto another street. The scooter is harder to turn than I thought, and soon I'm terrified it's going to topple over again. I don't want to put my foot on the ground with my flimsy sandals on. In a panic I scream out, "Edward!"

"Holy shit, Bella!" I hear him curse. He sticks his foot out, saving us, but in the sudden chaos I hit the gas again like a spaz. The scooter goes flying, the whole front end shooting off the ground as I clutch the handle bars for dear life. Our seat is snatched out from beneath us and I can't tell up from down or left from right in the few terrifying moments that follow. Then I suddenly hit the ground, the scooter is halfway on top of me, and a terrible pain is shooting through my right wrist.

Edward is on his feet in a second flat, shoving the scooter off my legs. He's frantic. I'm just happy we're both still alive.

"Christ, Bella. Are you okay?"

* * *

Poor Bella. Those scooters are tricky...

Ok, a fucktabulously long A/N coming up. I apologize in advance.

First of all, thanks to those of you who reviewed. I read each and every one and love them all. I also had quite a few people give suggestions and offer their help as a beta, which I really really really really appreciated. And I'm happy to announce that ms_ambrosia has taken up the task and she did a fabulous job with this chapter...that girl really knows her shit. So thank you!

Now, on a more serious note, I had someone comment that I ripped off this story from a book by Jennifer Crusie called _Bet Me_. This is the first I've heard of the author or the book (apart from someone else who said they were similar, but in a much nicer way) and I just want to throw this out there now because I find the accusation a little offensive. **I would never intentionally rip off another person's work.** I came up with the story while watching the movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Yes, I know. And before that, many many months ago, I'd thought about writing a story about Edward making a bet after watching She's All That...because apparently I watch way too many chick-flicks and draw muchos inspiration from them.

The stories are alike, I agree, but I didn't mean for it to be that way. I didn't purposefully copy her story, even if that's how it seems. And for the record, I'd like to say I'm making no money off this story. It's all 100% for fun. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight and Jennifer Crusie owns the plot from Bet Me. They get the credit and the fat bank account and I get nothing but kind words from some very nice ladies...and I'm absolutely fine with that. I work in healthcare, ppl...give me a break, please.

So yeah, end of rant. I at least wanted to put this out there so that we're all on the same page. I'm sorry that this happened, it was such a downer to realize it, but hey...shit happens. And if it's still an issue then please, for the love of all that is Holy contact me and let me know. I would very much like to get this straight before I become more invested in this story.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

-mybluesky


	5. Chapter 5

You guys rock my world. Your supportive comments were very appreciated...in fact, if I could write a song about how awesome you all are I'd totally do it. Except I suck at writing lyrics and it'd probably be so awful I'd offend everyone. So here's another chapter instead...enjoy

Thanks to ms_ambrosia for betaing the shit out of this and Twilightzoner for all her help and suggestions.

All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

**The Betting Man**

Chapter Five

BPOV

I close my eyes and pretend, for half a moment, that this atrocious little incident never happened. I can still hear Edward's frantic voice in the background. He surely thinks I'm in a coma, which, to be perfectly honest, would be preferable.

_Dear God, if you're listening right now, please have mercy and end my existence. This is quite possibly the single most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me in my twenty-four years of living. Thank you and amen._

He's shaking my shoulders lightly. I open both eyes.

"Oh thank God," he breathes. "You scared the shit out of me. Are you okay?"

Nothing hurt but my pride. And - _fuck!-_ my wrist. I groan in response, still too humiliated to speak. I just want to melt into the asphalt and absolutely die.

I move to roll over but he puts a firm hand on my shoulder, forcing me back down. "I don't think that's a good idea, Bella," he warns.

"What?" I'm confused. Aside from my painful wrist, I'm fine.

"Your back could be injured. You hit the ground pretty hard. I'm calling an ambulance--"

"What? No!" I struggle against him and eventually peel myself from the pavement. My ass is sore, as well as my right knee, but nothing compares to the sharp pain in my wrist. A quick glance reveals it's swollen and starting to bruise. Edward notices.

"Your wrist is swelling. Does it hurt?" He touches it and I snatch it away.

"Yes, it hurts!"

"I think you really need to go to the hospital..."

I groan internally, but I'm too distracted to argue once I realize several people have gathered around, asking us questions and making sure I'm not seriously injured. Then I look down and realize my jeans are ripped at the knee and there's a small amount of blood. Crap, my favorite jeans!

Edward is assuring everyone I'm fine. His helmet is off, on the ground, and I rip mine away and toss it aside. Fuck me, the last thing I want right now is an audience for this moment of total humiliation.

With my uninjured hand I pick up the scooter by the handlebars and right it. Everyone watches me, some even backing up a pace or two, as if I'm gonna jump on and peel out like I'm in the world's greatest scooter action movie ever. Edward quickly grabs the other handlebar.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, his voice thick with disbelief and anger. I glare at him.

"I'm taking the scooter back." I plan on pushing it back, like the total dunce that I am, but Edward's next words still piss me off.

"Like hell you are. You're not riding this again."

I'm sure I turn fifty shades of red. "_Excuse_ me?" He's not my father and he certainly isn't my boyfriend. He has no right to make these demands of me. I narrow my eyes at him and he

narrows his right back.

"If you think I'm letting you drive this again you're fucking crazy."

_Holy shit_. I've never wanted to deck someone as much as I do right now.

The pressure's building, and I'm close to unleashing the fury on his ass, but a bystander quickly steps in between us, taking the scooter. He's a young man with light-brown hair and squinty eyes.

"I really think I should take the scooter back," he offers. I refuse to let go, downright pissed off.

"No. _I_ can take it back."

"Bella..." Edward says, a warning to his tone. Could this moment possibly get any worse? I stare him down, one hand still firmly grasping the scooter, refusing to relent. I'm sure this is the most entertainment these losers have had in years.

"Bella, let go of the scooter. We're going to the hospital." His voice is eerily calm. I wonder if he's just as ticked-off as I am.

"I can take myself to the hospital, if I so please," I say my tone matching his. "I drove here." A few people from our audience have wandered away, but at least four remain, continuing to watch. I've had enough. "Is there something we can help you with?" I snap at them. They start, looking affronted, but eventually thin out as well. I turn back to Edward. "Here, take the stupid scooter," I growl, thrusting it away from me. Poor squinty-eyes catches it just in time.

I march off in the direction of my car. Edward is hot on my heels, the scooter all but abandoned.

"Bella, would you stop? What the hell is wrong with you?"

_The nerve_! Does he speak to every girl he's trying to bed this way?

"I don't appreciate you telling me what to do, Edward," I say, much more calmly this time. I continue hastily down the street, Edward matching my pace.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, aghast.

"I'm not a child and I'm not _your_ responsibility. For your information, I wasn't planning on driving the scooter again. But what's it to you if I was, huh?"

He stops walking behind me, apparently too stunned to keep moving. I turn around and face him, waiting for his explanation.

"Are you serious?" he asks in disbelief. "Did you hit your head? I mean, you were there, right? When you nearly killed us both?" His words are dripping in sarcasm. _Asshole_.

I roll my eyes and keep walking. Maybe my whole little plan was a stupid idea. I feel like throttling him right now.

"Bella, slow down." He's jogging to catch up.

"No."

"Look, I'm sorry. Okay? But you're fucking stressing me out. Scooters aren't my favorite thing in the world anyway and I thought you'd broken your neck or something."

"That's sweet," I say dryly.

"God damn it, Bella. Stop." He stands in my path, cutting me off. "I'm sorry for how I acted. I'm not trying to argue with you. Could you just put yourself in my shoes, please? What would you think if I wrecked and was injured and wanted to hop right back on and keep driving?"

"I wasn't going to keep driving--" I start, but he cuts me off.

"I know, I know. But I thought you were. I'm sorry. Okay?"  
He gives me what I'm sure is very well-practiced innocent eyes. I bet this man always gets what he wants. And fuck me if I'm not about to become one of _those_ girls.

I sigh loudly. "Fine. I forgive you. _Again_."

He smiles crookedly and I feel some of my anger dissipate. "Thank you. Can I drive you to the hospital?"

"I think I'm just gonna go home and ice it," I argue. He looks shocked.

"Are you serious? It could be broken."

"Trust me, Edward. I've had lots of experience with these things and I know for sure that it's not broken."

"You know, for some reason that doesn't surprise me," he mumbles. I just shrug. "But I'd really feel better if you went."

"I'm a big girl, Edward. I can make my own decisions."

"Are you always this stubborn?"

"Usually. Does that bother you?"

He looks as though he's about to say something, then suddenly he changes his mind. "No."

"Good. We should get along just fine then." I pat him on the back and keep walking. He follows, of course.

"Just so you know," he says, "I'm stubborn, too. And amazingly persistent. I'm not gonna let you rest until you go to the hospital."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you."

"Maybe. Or maybe not." I hear something jingle and look over. He's holding my keys up in the air, dangling them in front of me, looking incredibly smug. What the...?

"Where did you get those?" I growl. I reach forward and he quickly snatches them away, out of my reach.

"You left them on the table," he answers easily.

"So why didn't you say something?"

"Why should I? This worked out much more in my favor."

"Edward, I swear to God, I'll--"

"You'll what?" He grins and I realize we've reached his car. Mine is parked a few spaces away. He opens his passenger door and stands there, waiting for me to get in. "Bella, this can be easy or difficult. But either way, we both know how it's gonna end."

He is such a self-assured bastard. I need to start writing down my break-up speech so I can remember everything I want to call him when this is over.

"You know," I say, relenting and getting in, "you're pretty annoying." His grin only widens as he shuts me inside.

---

EPOV

Holy shit. This seriously falls into the top spot of "craziest dates of all time". I can't believe we just crashed on a scooter on the waterfront. And here I am, driving my date to the E.R.

I look over at her. She's looking down, nursing her swollen wrist. It's starting to turn blue. Does she really think she doesn't need to go to the hospital? I don't care what she fucking says, it's probably fractured. And she thought she could hop in her car and turn the ignition with that hand? Release the emergency break with it? Is she crazy??

I must be giving off a strange vibe. She looks up at me. "What?" she asks poignantly.

"Nothing," I say, smiling lightly. "Just musing over the fact that this is my first date to end in a trip to the emergency department."

She snorts and I smile again. Despite my frustrations this evening, that was kind of...cute? "Well, it's my only _first_ date to end in the E.R.," she confirms. "Not my first time by any means."

"Clumsy by nature, huh, Swan?"

She rolls her eyes. "You have no idea."

"What other time on a date did you go to the E.R.?"

"The time my heel broke and I fell down two steps and sprained my ankle."

My eyes widen in amazement. "You should really come with a warning or something. How exactly did I let you talk me into renting a scooter?"

She shrugs. "Scooters are fun. Anyone would've done it."

"Scooters aren't really my thing," I say. Although being pressed against her body had been a welcome surprise - she was warm and soft and her hair smelled like coconuts or something equally divine. Of course, my dick could never sit that close to her ass without wanting to come out and play. I swear, that thing is insatiable. And he surely won't be getting any tonight - not with a long afternoon in the E.R. on the horizon.

"And what is your _thing_ then, Edward?" she asks. She sounds a bit...exasperated. I cock an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know. Quiet walks on the beach. Candlelight dinners. Something _safe_."

"Well that sounds extremely cliche and all, but sort of boring. What if the date's a total dud? Then what do you have to fall back on? You'll both just be sitting in the sand staring at each other through candlelight, both bored out of your minds."

"Sorry, Swan," I say sarcastically. "Should I have taken you bungee jumping yesterday instead of out to dinner? I didn't realize you were a thrill-seeker. Then perhaps you could've broken both hands and your neck while you're at it."

God, this girl has such witty and sarcastic remarks that it's hard to control what I say around her. Hopefully I'm not pissing her off...again.

"No, Eduardo," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm not a thrill-seeker. Scooters are hardly considered dangerous."

"I beg to differ after your little stunt today."

She ignores me. "Plus, I told you my hand isn't broken."

"And how would you know?"

"It feels different. Both hurt, but a broken wrist hurts more."

"You think after a while you might just be used to the pain?"

She glares at me. "This is the first time I've hurt this wrist."

"Okay then," I say, shrugging easily. "I guess we'll fine out in...oh...a few minutes then, huh?" We pull into the hospital parking lot and I park near the entrance of the ER. Bella starts laughing.

"Have you ever been to this hospital?" she asks, skeptical. "A few _hours_ seems more accurate."

---

As we walk inside I call for my father, but I'm informed he's in surgery at the moment. That really fucking sucks because normally he could come and we'd be in and out in an hour.

We check in at the front counter. Bella's unable to write with her injured wrist so I fill out her paperwork whilst she stands over me, feeding me the information. She eyes my script for a while and finally says, "You have very neat handwriting."

I'm not sure if she's insulting or complimenting. I'm finding it difficult to figure her out. Warily I say, "Thank you."

She nods. "It's not very manly, though," she adds. She nudges me with her elbow and pulls at my shirt. "Are you sure you're really a man under there? These last two days haven't been much in your favor."

Is she serious? I lean close to her and, with my voice low, say, "You're more than welcome to find out tonight."

Her eyes quickly dart to meet mine and she flushes a deep red. This girl is something else entirely. I'd pay any amount of money to know what she's thinking right now.

Give or take a few seconds for recovery and she clears her throat. "You said you have to go back to Olympia."

"I do."

She shrugs. "Some other time, then," she says coyly. She keeps her eyes diverted, refusing to look at me.

Holy shit...seriously? Or is she fucking with me again? I can never tell with her. Slightly frustrated, I stand up to return the paperwork. Bella follows me.

The secretary takes the paperwork and asks, "Do you have a medical doctor, Miss Swan?"

"No."

"We'd really like to be seen by Dr. Cullen, if that's possible," I say, polite but authoritative. Bella's eyes widen and she pales; the secretary cocks an eyebrow.

"That will be up to the attending E.D. physician," she says. "Please have a seat in the triage room." She points. "A nurse will take your vitals and ask you questions."

I sigh. Of-fucking-course. I hear Bella let out a breath of relief as we make our way to the small room. She looks at me, determined. "I don't need your _dad_ here!" she whispers.

I just shrug. "He's the only doctor I trust."

We spend less than ten minutes in this room and then we're led to room number five. It's small, with a stiff stretcher, one chair, a heart monitor and a twenty-inch TV set mounted high on the wall. We're told the nurse will be with us shortly.

Bella sighs loudly and hops onto the stretcher. There's no pillow on it. "Here we go again," she mumbles - I don't bother asking what she means. She turns to me. "I should probably call Rose. Can I borrow your phone?"

"Sure." I fish my Blackberry from my pocket and hand it over.

"Ooh, snazzy," she remarks, grinning. She begins pressing buttons with her left hand and eventually speaks; "Hey Rose...No, it's Edward's number." Pause. "_No_, Rose. I can't talk right now." Her eyes quickly dart to mine and back again. Interesting... "I'm actually at the E.R. I hurt my wrist....No, it's a long story; I'll tell you about it later." Pause. "Well Edward has to go to Olympia soon so I was wondering if you could come get me in a little while." Pause. "No, he drove me here. My car is at the waterfront. Can I call you when it looks like they're close to being done?" Pause. "Okay, thanks. Bye."

She hangs up, but rather than hand my phone back she begins going through its contents. _What the fuck!?_ I lunge at her, quickly taking it from her hand. There's far too many text messages that she shouldn't be reading - or I should say messages that would cause her to want nothing to do with me. I need to remember to delete them tonight.

She looks startled. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"There are private things on here," I mumble.

She crosses her arms, skeptical. "Uh-huh. What sort of private things, Eduardo?"

"Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Eduardo."

She shrugs. "It has character."

"But it's not my name."

"Close enough."

A nurse tech comes in, interrupting us. She hooks Bella up to the blood pressure machine and gets her vitals again. A nurse soon follows, a young woman with coarse, black hair, and she pokes and prods Bella's wrist. "Looks like you did yourself a number there," she comments. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes."

"On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you've ever felt and one being no pain, what would you rate it?"

"A seven," Bella says promptly. She's probably used to this shit.

"Does it hurt when you move it?"

"Yes."

"What about when I touch it?"

"Ouch! Yes!"

"Okay, I'm gonna get you an ice pack. Dr. Carr should be in to see you soon."

She disappears and we're alone again. Bella turns to me. "You don't have to stay, you know."

I'm taken aback. "What? I'm not leaving you here by yourself."

"Rose will be here soon."

"You said you were going to call her when you're ready."

"No, she said she'd be here in a half hour. So you can go."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella," I scoff. "I'm not leaving you."

Dr. Carr walks in. He's a tall man with broad shoulders draped in a white coat; the shadow of his receding hairline is visible on his shaved head. He grins, addressing Bella easily, and proceeds to poke and prod her wrist as the nurse had done. "We're going to need to x-ray it," he says. "But in the meantime I'll get you something for pain." Then he's gone, just as quickly as he came.

The nurse pops back in, her hands full of supplies. "Miss Swan, I'm going to need to start an IV."

Bella pales so quickly that it would, under any other circumstance, be a little comical. Yet I can't help but feel badly for her. She looks terrified.

"Are you sure? I mean, it doesn't hurt _that_ bad..."

"It's just one little stick, Miss Swan. Then you'll have something for pain and you'll feel much better."

Bella looks at me, as if I could make the decision for her. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Bella," I assure softly. "You're a big girl. Remember?"

She gives a shaky sigh, obviously distressed. "Yeah. I can do it." She holds her hand out to me. "Will you hold my hand?"

"Of course." I clasp it in mine and she immediately clutches it in a death-grip.

"I'm actually gonna need to do the IV in that arm," the nurse intervenes sympathetically.

"Fuck," Bella grumbles, releasing my hand. She looks thoroughly stressed out. I pick up my chair and move it around the stretcher to her injured side, and scoot it as close as I can to her. I link my arm through hers, careful to avoid her wrist, and lean close to her on the stretcher. She relaxes a bit but suddenly tenses again as the nurse wraps the tourniquet around her arm.

When the nurse pulls the needle out Bella turns and buries her face in my shoulder, her eyes squinched tightly shut. The top of her head is close to my face and I inhale her scent again - coconuts. Definitely coconuts.

The nurse sticks the needle in and she jumps. She's...trembling? This is too much. Breaking her wrist is no problem, but whip out a little needle and she cowers like a child. I reach my free hand around and rub her hair soothingly.

"You're doing good, Bella," I murmur softly. "She's almost done."

She nods, her face still buried in my shoulder. A few seconds later and the nurse has the needle out and is taping everything down. "All done," she announces happily, and she begins pushing the pain medicine.

Bella sighs. "Oh thank God." She straightens; our faces are only inches apart, not unlike the night before. When she sees our close proximity she quickly backs away, clearing her throat. "Um, thank you." A rosy pink masks her pallor.

I smile. "No problem," I say. Our arms are still linked; neither of us pull away, a sort of awkward silence settling between us. After receiving the pain medicine Bella's eyes begin to droop; she rolls them at me.

"This feels weird," she gushes.

"What?" I wonder if she's referring to us - our current position.

"The pain medicine."

"Oh."

She giggles. The nurse leaves and a young man comes in, pushing a large, white machine. "Excuse me, sir," he says politely. "I'm gonna need you to step out for a moment so we can get an x-ray."

I nod while pulling my arm from Bella's and step outside the room. I'm surprised to come face-to-face with Emmett and the blonde - Rosalie's arms are crossed, her lips pursed, while Em stands at her side grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Rosalie glares at me but doesn't say anything. What's her problem?

"Hey guys," I say easily.

Emmett slaps me on the back. "Yo, dude. Some date, huh? What did you do to her?"

I roll my eyes. "Nothing, Em. It was an accident. I'm sure she'll tell you all about it."

"Sure, sure," he says. "Hey, this will be a funny story to tell the kids." He winks at me and I refrain from scowling - the ass knows that isn't my style. _Kids_? I can't even think about having kids right now.

"Well is she okay?" Rosalie huffs.

"Yes. She just got some pain medicine - she's convinced it isn't broken."

"Yes, I saw you helping out with the IV in there. You guys looked very..._cozy_." She spits out the last word like it's venom. Honestly, this is the first time I've met this girl. I have no idea what her deal is.

"I'm Edward, by the way," I say, extending my hand. She shakes it briskly.

"Rose. And just so you know, Edward, I have both eyes on you at all times." She gestures from her eyes to mine with two fingers.

Holy fuck...is this where James had his problems? Psycho best friend always getting in the way? Emmett is just standing there, still grinning, eating this shit up.

When the technician leaves we all filter back into the room. Bella is drowsy - she looks close to unconsciousness, curled up on the stretcher with no pillow. Rosalie grabs the sheet and begins covering her up.

Bella cracks one eye open and looks at Rosalie and Em. "Hey guys," she gushes quietly, grinning widely. Yes, she's definitely feeling better.

"Bella, what the fuck happened?" Rosalie snaps.

"Not now," Bella groans. "I'm sleepy. I'll need all my energy to tell the story effectively."

I look at my Blackberry - it's almost six o'clock and I need to go home before making the drive to Olympia. Bella is resting with her eyes closed again, exhausted. Rose and Em are talking to each other in hushed voices.

I crouch low in front of Bella, my face level with hers, and brush my thumb across her smooth cheek. Her eyes flutter open and focus on me.

"Will you be okay if I leave you with Rosalie and Emmett?" I ask softly.

She slowly nods, her eyes never leaving mine. "I told you you could leave forever ago."

"And I told you I wasn't leaving you here by yourself."

She sighs, obviously too fatigued to argue. "Yes, Edward. You can go. I'll be fine."

I smile. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay. Will you get my purse for Rose?"

"Sure." I stand and kiss her softly on the cheek - her eyes close at the contact of my skin on hers and she sighs quietly. "Goodbye, beautiful," I whisper. She watches as I leave, Rose following to retrieve my purse from my car. I feel bad leaving her alone with Emmett - hopefully that douche doesn't give her a hard time in the few moments of solitude.

Rose looks like she wants to say something to me the entire trip to the car. She obviously thinks better of it, her jaws clamped tightly shut. She takes the purse with a curt nod and a thank you and disappears back inside.

---

My Blackberry beeps as I'm driving back to Olympia. At a red-light I pull it out and see I have a message from Bella.

_Just thought you should know it's only sprained, not broken. Hate to say I told you so, but...I told you so ;-) - B_

I smile as I tuck the phone back into my pocket. That Bella is something else entirely...and in a good way. For years to come, I'm sure I'll remember this date and think of her.

And I'll certainly never look at scooters the same way again.

* * *

Progress, people, progress. I know some of you are anxious for them to start ripping off the clothes, but remember she's only know him for 2 days. Oh, and he's still a man-whore.

Let me know what you think. Next chapter soon...

-mybluesky


	6. Chapter 6

A Betting Man

**Chapter Six**

I open one eye and see that Emmett and I are alone. _Oh God_...what's going on? He's grinning down at me like a jolly giant. I gasp and sit up a little straighter, instantly alert.

"What's going on?" I mumble.

He sits on the one tiny chair in the room. It looks too small for him. "Rose went to get your purse," he explains. "I was dying for them to leave. I have to know - are you making him suffer yet?"

I gasp and look over at him, incredulous. _What the fuck?_

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say indignantly. Rose and her God damn foghorn mouth. I should have know.

"Come on, Bella. You don't have to lie."

"What did Rose tell you?"

"That he made a bet on you and you know all about it."

_Christ!_ Who's side is she on, anyway? She walks back into the room just in time to receive the hairiest fucking eyeball I've ever conjured. She stops in her tracks like she's been sucker punched.

"What?" she asks quizzically, my purse clutched in her hand. She looks from me to Emmett. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me, _Rose,_" I sneer.

Her eyes widen. "You said something!?" she screams at Emmett. He holds up both hands defensively.

"Hey, hey! This is between you guys."

"Like hell it is! I told you not to tell her I told you."

"Why did you tell him, Rose?" I whine. "Now everything is ruined."

"What?" Emmett seems confused. "Nothing's ruined. Don't you understand?" He looks at me as though it should be obvious. "I can _help _you."

I snort. "You're friends with Edward. Why would you want to help _me_?"

"Because I'm friends with Rose, too. And any friend of hers is a friend of mine." He wraps his huge arm around her waist and pulls her close. I roll my eyes at the term "friends". "And besides, Edward's been getting on my nerves with his fuckery. He _needs_ to be brought down a notch or two. And I know about the bet and...well...that's not very cool."

Is this guy serious? I'm kind of liking him a lot right now. I'm very interested in where this is going.

"Whatever happened to 'bros before hoes'?" I ask sarcastically.

Before he can answer Dr. Carr strolls back in, interrupting our conversation. _Damn it_. He has a thin folder in his hands - my files - and he opens it as he stands in front of me.

"Well, Miss Swan," he begins, "I've got good news. It isn't broken, most likely just sprained. I'm going to wrap it with some ace wrap and you should keep ice on it until the swelling subsides. You need to elevate it as often as you can and rest it for at least two weeks. Is that clear?" I nod. "You can take the wrap off to shower but I'd suggest having someone else wrap it back up for you. But don't let them wrap it so tightly that it cuts off your circulation."

No kidding. This isn't my first sprain, of which he's very much aware. But I guess his little speech is standard...can't have me suing for a rotten arm after I walk around with no circulation in it all day. I wonder if that's ever happened to anybody...

I nod politely, ready for him to get on with it so Emmett and I can continue our conversation. He promptly wraps my wrist and puts the ice pack on top. The nurse comes in as he leaves and takes out my IV. I blush as she removes it, remembering how I'd been all over Edward and how close his mouth was to mine again. What was even more disturbing was that I'd actually thought, for a very brief moment, of what it would be like to kiss him. Such a close proximity to a man like him is obviously dangerous...I need to be more careful.

The nurse hands me a prescription for pain, repeats the same instructions, and I'm released. As soon as we exit the E.R. they both lay into me.

"So are you going to tell me exactly what happened yet?"

"Yeah, Bella. We're dying over here. I'm this close to calling Edward and harassing him some more." Emmett holds up two fingers to indicate just how close he is. I roll my eyes.

"It was seriously the most humiliating moment of my life. I'd rather not relive it now or...ever."

Emmett's grin falters. "What?" he asks in disbelief. "Don't tell me you're gonna hold out on us."

"Emmett, she'll tell us when she feels like it," Rose scolds him. She turns to me. "But seriously, Bella. Did Edward do this to you? Did he attack you?" Her tone is so serious - my eyes probably bug out of my head.

"What? Rose, no. He didn't attack me."

Emmett looks offended. "You really think he would attack her?" he asks, aghast.

"I don't fucking know," Rose snaps. "He made that bet. He seems more than capable of an attack to me."

"So he's a little irresponsible with women. He's not a rapist."

They continue to argue as we pile into Rose's Audi - Emmett gallantly takes the backseat without even so much of a discussion. God bless him. I'm truly intrigued by this man...I'm starting to see why Rose likes him so much. But what's his deal with Edward?

"It was an innocent question. I didn't accuse him to his face."

"But you wanted to. I could tell."

"Well sure I wanted to. I mean, for the love of Christ, she's alone with him for one day and her wrist is nearly broken. What in the hell could they have done on a date to sprain a wrist?"

Emmett leans forward and taps me on the shoulder. I slowly turn around and glare at him a bit, already exasperated, because I know what's coming. "I don't know," he says cheekily. "Bella, what _did_ happen? You're _sure_ it was nothing physical?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Rose scoffs loudly in disbelief. "What kind of sex could break a person's wrist?"

"You've _obviously_ never had really bangin' sex."

"Is that right?" She quirks and inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Because last night seemed pretty--"

"Rose!"

Emmett ignores my outburst and responds, "Sweetheart, trust me. You haven't seen anything yet."

This is too much. Emmett's just as much of a cocky bastard as Edward! Except Rose is eating his shit up. She looks a little hot and flustered..._dear Lord_! I need to get out of this car before they pull over and start going at it in the backseat.

Luckily the waterfront is close to the hospital. I can't get out of the car fast enough. As I'm scrambling into my own vehicle Emmett hollers, "You care if we come over? I want to talk to you about this whole Edward thing."

I have to work early tomorrow and need to get to bed, yet my curiosity is begging me to say yes. I just _have_ to know what he's going on about. Why is he saying Edward needs to learn a lesson one second and defending him the next? Are they friends or is it...something else?

Only one way to find out.

"Yes, you guys can come over."

He grins. "Great. We'll be there in an hour." He dips back into the car and slams the door.

An _hour?_ That can only mean...oh, for the love of Christ.

---

I stop to get my prescription filled on the way home. It's nearly eight o'clock when Emmett and Rose arrive, and while waiting for them I change into pajamas, break out the buffalo ranch Doritos, and send a quick text to Edward.

_Just thought you should know it's only sprained, not broken. Hate to say I told you so, but...I told you so ;-) - B_

I smile as I send it, wondering if he's in Olympia yet. It's only an hour or so of a drive so he should be close. Does he see women there? Will he fuck someone tonight? I tell myself that I don't care. It's like my new mantra: _I don't care...I don't care...I don't care..._But truthfully, the thought of him taking me out, putting up with the total fuckery I brought upon us, being incredibly sweet while I got the IV, and then rushing to his other house to fuck someone else in a different city after calling me beautiful, well...it doesn't sit well with me.

_He could be fucking you tonight,_ screams my subconscious. My inner girl power scoffs. _As if! You do remember you're just a bet, right?_

I groan in frustration. Sure, he's cocky, but he doesn't seem like a total asshole. At least not the majority of the time. And what man that good-looking wouldn't be cocky? Hell, _I'd_ be cocky if I was him.

Things would be so much easier if he was annoying. He'd be much easier to resist then. If he tries to kiss me again I fear I'll either give in or spontaneously combust.

I wonder, fleetingly, what would have happened if I didn't know about the bet. Would I have given in by now? Would he be collecting his winnings from that fuck bag James while I inhale Ben and Jerry's and sob, alone, in my bedroom? Surely not...surely I have more self-control than _that_.

I'm so caught up in my musings that when the door swings open I jump, startled. Rose comes waltzing in, Emmett on her heels, and he's carrying a box of pizza.

"We bring food," he bellows cave-man style. God, even when talking normally he's still very loud. His vocal cords must be as big as a whale's.

"Oh, good," I say, abandoning my Doritos. I pull out paper plates and sodas from the fridge. The pizza gets deposited on the counter and we all dig in. We gather around the breakfast bar, each perched atop a black-cushioned stool. Rose and Emmett sit beside each other and I sit across from them.

For a few seconds we eat in silence. Of course, the peace is short-lived.

"Are you ready to tell us yet?" Emmett pesters.

I sigh, but figure it's going to come out at some point or another, and at least if I tell them they'll both quit bugging me. I tell the whole mortifying story, omitting the part where I felt Edward's thingy and claiming I just lost control of the scooter while turning, which is partially true. Apparently, my misery is still exceptionally hilarious. Emmett can't stop laughing, exclaiming, "God, if I could have only seen his face!" over and over.

After a few minutes I fling a mushroom at him. "Shut it. You got your goods – now give me mine."

His brows wrinkle in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"How do you know Edward and have you told him I know?"

"Hell no I haven't told him. You think I'm an idiot?"

"I thought guys stuck together and shit. Wouldn't a real friend tell him?"

He looks at me as though I'm insane, which may be true. I can't even tell anymore. This whole weekend has thrown me for a disorienting loop.

"No," he assures with confidence. "A real friend seizes any opportunity to fuck with his buddy."

"What are you? Fourteen?"

He looks offended. "I'm twenty-seven. And I can always go tell him if you want..." he trails off.

_Oh shit!_ What was I thinking?

"No!" I quickly exclaim. "That's not what I meant. I'm just trying to figure you out."

Rose chimes in. "There is no figuring Emmett out."

"Which is a good thing, as you've learned. Right baby?" He wraps an arm around her shoulder and she shrugs, though it's obvious from her coy expression that she's smitten.

I roll my eyes. Is this a little glimpse of my future as Rose's best friend?

"Anyway," Emmett goes on, "I want to help."

"Help how?"

"You know. Help you fuck with him."

Rose grins wickedly. "I think this will be awesome, Bella. You'll really be able to hit him where it hurts."

"Okay..." I say, uncertain. I haven't really thought through any plans for Edward yet. I was sort of just going to wing it. "What did you have in mind?"

"Okay," he begins. He gets a devious glint to his eyes – I'm almost a little scared of what I'm about to hear. "First thing you should know about Edward is he's a little OCD. He likes his shit to be clean. So the messier you are around him, the better."

I nod. That seems innocent enough.

"He's not really keen on animals, either. They're too messy for him. So if you could buy a cat or something and try to get him to keep it at his house that would be pretty wicked. Preferably one that sheds a lot and stinks."

I gasp. "I'm not getting a cat for this! You're taking this a little too seriously."

"Do you want to have fun with this or not?" he asks, no-nonsense to his question.

"I don't even know anymore."

"Come on, Bella," Rose urges. "When else will you get the opportunity to fuck with a totally hot guy like this?"

Emmett fakes offense. I cross my arms and huff.

"It just seems wrong."

"More wrong than making a bet that he can sleep with you?"

She's right. _Damn it_. He totally deserves this shit.

Emmett continues: "He also likes to be in control of things. He completely has the 'boss' persona. So that scooter thing...complete genius. I'm sure he about lost his shit."

I shrug. He actually did lose his shit a little...not that I can blame him. I probably would've done the same thing.

"Just take his control away whenever you can. And he's also never taken a woman home to meet his parents, so if we could somehow condone him into letting you meet them..." he trails off thoughtfully. I choke on my pizza.

He's twenty-eight and he's _never_ taken a woman home?

"What??" I exclaim, coughing and sputtering. After I recover I add, "Never?"

Emmett shrugs apologetically. "He's not really a commitment type of guy," he explains, but does not elaborate.

"And why is that?" I wonder aloud.

"He has his reasons, I guess. It's really not my business to broadcast. Sorry."

That's interesting...

"And you're sure I should fuck with him like this?" I ask, wanting to be certain.

"Absolutely. There's no excuse for playing with everyone else's emotions. I don't care what the fuck you're going through." He sounds so absolute and final. How can I argue with that?

"You kind of make it sound like he should be in therapy or something," I note.

"No, it's just.." He suddenly looks frustrated. "Ah, fuck. He just doesn't care for commitments, alright? He's a really good guy, though. Probably the most selfless person in the world."

"Then why is he friends with James? Good people don't hang out with the likes of _him_."

"_You_ did," Rose quickly points out.

"That was different. I didn't know how he was. Edward obviously knows...and he seems to be just like him!"

"I don't really know James," Emmett reveals. "So I know they're not best-buds or anything."

"Why don't you ask him about it?" Rose suggests. "Be discreet, though. Just say I mentioned that Bella used to date him and see what he says."

Emmett doesn't look hopeful. "I can try..."

My wrist is really starting to throb again. I stand to retrieve a pain pill, quickly glancing at my phone to see if Edward has responded, but he hasn't. I suppose I would have heard the beep. I'm amazed that I feel a little disappointed over this and quickly push those thoughts aside.

It's getting late. After I kindly point this out they begrudgingly leave, Emmett still munching on a slice of pizza as they walk out the door. He assures me he'll keep thinking of crazy things I can do to Edward.

I brush my teeth and wash my face. I'm starting to feel tired and loopy from the pain pill. As I lie down I hear my phone beep in the kitchen and my stomach flip-flops in that fourteen-year-old way..._shit_! What is wrong with me? I rush to pick it up.

_You're right, as always. You're really starting to do bad things to my ego._ _- E_

I take the phone to my bed and respond while I'm lying there.

_Someone needs to do bad things to your ego. Maybe give it a trim...it's way too big. - B_

_You think I'm egotistical? - E_

_Maybe. - B_

_How could I not be? After getting to go out with beautiful women such as yourself... - E_

_Beautiful women? As in more than one? I thought I was your only date today. – B_

I scold myself for how suspicious and jealous I seem. I am _not _jealous, damn it!

_Trust me, Bella. You're a handful. I couldn't handle more than just you if I tried. - E_

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Texts are always so cryptic, though I'm sure I'd be just as confused if he were here, murmuring it in that incredibly seductive voice of his.

_I'll take that as a compliment. I like to think I keep you on your toes. - B_

_Trust me, you do. - E_

_You working early tomorrow? - E_

_Yes, I should probably go to sleep. - B _

_Me, too. I can't wait to see you again. - E_

_When are you coming back to Seattle? Next weekend? - B_

_Probably. It usually gets pretty busy during the week. - E_

I'm surprised to find myself a little...disappointed? It seems my two weeks of fun is turning into two weekends. And I eventually need to ask him to go to the wedding with me. I decide I'll do it this weekend...and if he says no, then my two weekends will only be one weekend.

Damn, what a downer.

_Well, I guess until this weekend, then... - B_

I wonder how many random women he'll fuck between now and then. Or maybe they aren't random...maybe they're more like "fuck-buddies". That would make a lot of sense.

_I'm looking forward to it. Goodnight, beautiful. - E_

_Goodnight, Edward. – B_

I put the phone on my bedside table and decide that things will be better this way. Yes, the more distance - the less time I'm close to this man - the better.

* * *

Don't fret, my darlings. Olympia is only a short hours drive away.

Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed...I try to respond to them all but don't always get the chance. But please know I read every single one and love them to death.

Things are going to be busy for me over Christmas so the next chapter may not be until Monday. Not completely sure yet. But the good news is that it's at least halfway done so all reviewers get a teaser of the next chap. So hit that little button and you shall receive...

Next chapter will be longer, I promise.

Hope everyone's Holiday is merry.

-mybluesky


	7. Chapter 7

A Betting Man

**Chapter 7**

BPOV

The next day, work is slow-going. Time seems to creep by. I entertain myself by thinking of ways to mess with Edward and checking my phone obsessively for a text from him.

He doesn't text, much to my disappointment, but I imagine being CEO of a company must be time-consuming. I'm sure he doesn't have time to sit around flirting via text all day.

But later in the afternoon I get a message from an unknown number.

_Go really far with him and at the last second tell him you're on the rag – Emmett._

_What??_ Is this guy serious? Did Rose give him my number?

I reply: _What if he doesn't mind that? Then what would I do? - Bella_

_All guys mind that. - Emmett_

I want to argue with him, but seeing as how I don't actually know if guys mind it or not, I feel like I'm out of my element and leave it alone.

I didn't take any pain pills while at work because they make me incredibly drowsy and incoherent. I spent the majority of the day lightly using my hand; my only relief from the pain was a few Aleve. By the time I get home my wrist is in full-throb mode and killing me.

Last night I only took one Percocet. Today, I pop two.

I decide that tonight I'll order takeout and watch season four of _Lost_. The DVD is still sitting unopened in my entertainment stand. I pop the first disc in before ordering, anxious to get started. Anxious to see a little more of Sawyer. _Sigh_...

I can feel my eyelids getting heavy as time passes. I feel light, like I'm floating on a cloud. I feel strangely giddy...

My phone rings. I nearly fall off the couch trying to retrieve it from the table.

"Hello?" I gush, all breathless from the exertion.

"Bella? You okay?"

It's Edward! My giddy subconscious does a little happy dance.

And why am I so happy to hear from him?

"I'm fine. Sorry. How was your day?"

"Busy, but good. How was yours?"

"Slow and boring."

"What are you doing now?"

"Watching _Lost_."

"Is that what has you all hot and breathless?"

Hehe...Edward said "hot".

"Maybe."

"You know Hurley dreamed up the whole island, right? It's all a dream."

"Edward!" I admonish with a giggle. "I know for a fact that isn't true. I'm already on season four and I've seen that episode. But you still lose cool points for trying to ruin it for me."

He laughs. "I'll earn them back. Don't worry. Is your day better now that you're watching _Lost_?"

"Yeah, I guess so. What are you doing tonight?"

"I have another meeting. I just wanted to hear your beautiful voice before I go."

"You're quite the charmer, Mr. Cullen."

"Can I call you around this time tomorrow? Or do you have plans?"

"No, no plans. You can call." I'm already looking forward to it...though maybe I should have said I have plans so I don't seem so pathetic. Damn it, I'm never thinking! But I guess it doesn't matter what he thinks. If I take Emmett's suggestions I'll soon be a dirty slob with a smelly cat who's on the rag.

"Alright then. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Enjoy your TV show."

"Oh, I will. Enjoy your meeting."

He laughs. "I'll try. I'll probably think of you through most of it."

Oh, what a smooth talker! It's easy to see how he has such an effect on women – under normal circumstances I wouldn't stand a chance.

Once we hang up I stretch out on the couch but can no longer concentrate on the show. Damn him for making me lose my focus. Strangely, all I can do is imagine his beautiful face...

A knock at the door interrupts my daydreaming and I hasten to answer it. My door isn't locked, as usual – I really need to start exercising safety when I'm alone – but a quick peek through the peephole reveals a middle-aged man holding a massive bouquet of flowers.

_Holy shit...are those for me?_ I swing the door open and the man regards me with indifference.

"Miss Bella Swan?" he asks.

"Yes..."

"I have a delivery for you." Hell yes he does. He hands me the flowers and they're quite heavy – it's a gorgeous arrangement of red Stargazer lilies and white roses. I place them on the kitchen counter and notice a small card sticking out at the top – I can't wait to rip into it. The delivery man lingers in my doorway.

"Can I get your signature, Miss?" he asks, handing me a clipboard with a sheet of paper attached. I sign it quickly and send him on his way.

I know these have to be from Edward. Who else? The last flowers I received were from my father when I graduated college and his bouquet didn't even come with a vase.

I'm assaulted with the delicious fragrance of the lilies as I open the card.

_Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman. I thought about you all day. -Edward._

_Beautiful_. I roll the word around in my head. Edward seems to like it...he certainly uses it plenty. And I like it too, for that matter, especially when it's rolling off his perfect lips.

I consider messaging him to say "Thank you" but figure he is probably in the meeting he told me about...if he really has a meeting. Perhaps he has another date? I sigh and shake my head as I wish, more than anything, that he was trustworthy.

I don't hear from Edward the whole next day. I meet Jake on my lunch break and update him on all that's happened, beginning with my sprained wrist. He's not amused and, more insultingly, not surprised.

"You were always a terrible driver with those things," he muses with a disapproving shake of the head. My eyes widen in surprise.

"That's not true! I never wrecked it last time. I really think there was something wrong with this scooter."

"The scooter? Or the driver?"

I point a fry at him menacingly. "Don't make me come across this table, Black."

The waitress comes to refill our drinks and there is a short lull in our conversation.

"So when are you seeing him again?" Jacob wonders.

"This weekend, I guess. Hey – did they ever say what the terms of the bet are?"

He shakes his head apologetically. "No. They were still talking about it as they walked out of the bathroom. So maybe after they left they discussed it."

_Of course. Damn it_. I'm just _dying_ to know, but it seems the only people privy to the information are Edward and Satan – er, James.

"That stinks," I grumble. "Maybe they bet like a million dollars or something. You'd totally make a bet like that for a million dollars, wouldn't you?"

Jake regards me skeptically. "So you think they're millionaires? And why does it suddenly matter what they bet? And to answer your question...no, I wouldn't."

I scoff. "You're such a liar."

"I'd be cheating on Leah."

"This is assuming you're not with Leah, of course."

"Oh. Well the answer would still be no."

"How come?"

"Because it's not right, Bella," he says, exasperated. "So what if they did bet a million dollars? Does that make it okay for them to make this bet on you?"

"Hmm..." I think about it. "Well if Edward gave me at least half the money then...yeah, I might be okay with it."

"Some would consider that prostitution you know."

"It can't be prostitution if I don't know about it."

"But you do know about it."

I sigh loudly. "Jacob! We're pretending this is under normal circumstances, in which I wouldn't know and you wouldn't have a fiance. And for fuck's sake, quit going all 'What Would Jesus Do' on me and just admit that you'd do that shit for a million dollars."

He looks taken aback. "What's all this about?" he wonders.

I blush, suddenly embarrassed. Am I trying to make excuses for Edward? Damn it, I'm treading in the danger zone over here.

Change the topic...or at least, the topic of the topic.

"You know anyone who has a smelly cat?"

"What??" His eyebrows furrow quizzically. "Why the hell do you need to know that?"

"Edward's friend Emmett suggested I get one to mess with him."

"Because he doesn't like smelly cats?"

I shrug. "Guess not."

"Well Christ, Bella. _No one _likes smelly cats."

"Look – do you know someone or not? I'm gonna have to leave soon. My lunch break is almost over."

He shakes his head. "No, sorry. Maybe you should check out the humane society. That place always stinks. Or look in the newspaper for cats free to a good home – those animals usually have something wrong with them when they're free. That might help."

"Thanks," I mutter impassively, but I already know I'm not going through any of this trouble just to mess with Edward. Emmett will just have to think of some new ideas. What the fuck would I do with the thing once all this is over? I highly doubt Edward would keep it."How's the wedding planning going?"

"It's going. The choice for the last band was a flop so she's letting me pick."

"Oh, cool! Have you found anyone yet?"

"I did, but she vetoed that choice. She gets three vetoes."

Poor little naive Jake. I can only shake my head and laugh, because that's so Leah, and God how I love her.

After work I honestly can't wait to get inside my front door. I make a mad dash for the pain pills – my wrist is on fire! I once again pop two, knowing I have no plans for the evening.

I feel extremely pathetic as I contemplate what to do tonight. Watch more _Lost _or...check out what else is on TV? Holy crap. I need to get a life.

I decide on real-time TV, as it seems more spontaneous and slightly less pathetic. If that's even possible. I keep the phone with me, anticipating Edward's call. I still need to thank him for the flowers.

I feel the tell-tale signs that the meds are working when my eyelids begin to droop. I giggle at a Sham-Wow commercial – that shit's just too funny! Thankfully, the fire in my wrist is slowly being extinguished.

The phone rings and I fumble for it in my med-induced daze.

"Hullo?"

"Bella?" Edward says, much like the night before. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" I giggle. "I took a pain pill. Or two."

He's quiet for a moment and I hear him sigh. "Ah – I see. Your wrist still hurting pretty bad?"  
"Yeah. All I can take at work is Aleve. It doesn't help much."

"Have you tried regular Tylenol?"

"I don't take Tylenol."

"Why not?"

"My grandfather died of liver failure."

"Well it's okay as long as you don't take too much. What kind of pain pills did he prescribe you?"  
"Percocet."

He pauses. "You do know there's Tylenol in Percocet, right?"

What? Really? Fuck. I feel like an idiot now.

"Are you serious?" I groan.

"Yes, Bella."

"Well I took two of them. Am I going to die?"

He chuckles. "No, Bella. Doesn't it say you can take two?"

I nod, slowly realizing he can't see me. "Yes. It says one to two."

"Well there you go."

"I got your flowers," I say, off subject. "They're really pretty. My whole apartment smells like a fucking meadow." I giggle.

"Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman," he says, quoting his card. I wonder if he even saw the flowers or if he just had an assistant pick them out. I decide to challenge him.

"Do you even know what kind of flowers they are?"

"Of course I do, Bella. I bought them."

"What kind are they?"

"Red lilies and white roses."

Damn it.  
"Good job. You earned back one cool point." He laughs.

"You should have another delivery coming today."

Oh, God. I would tell him he needs to quit buying me stuff, but why the hell shouldn't he? He made a bet on me. I deserve a whole apartment full of flowers!

"More flowers?" I ask warily.

"Maybe."

Someone knocks on the door. My delivery! Damn, he's good. Edward seems to hear it...we're both silent.

"Are you going to get that?" he finally asks.

I clear my throat and peel myself from the sofa. "Um, yeah. Is this my delivery?"

"Could be. Are you expecting someone?"

"No. Can you hold for a second?"

"Sure."

With the phone still to my ear I swing the door open and gasp. It's him, in all his sex-hair, God-like, beautiful glory. He has his half-grin in place, his Blackberry still at his ear and a bag in his other hand. All I can do is stare, yet I want to jump on him and lick his face.

"Well?" he says into the phone, smirking. "Do you like it?"

EPOV

She stares at me, dumbfounded, and I can't help but think I've made a smart move by coming here.

Then she shuts off her phone and gives me that sleepy-eyed, overly large, med-induced grin. I realize she's higher than a kite, which I'd noticed over the phone and nearly forgotten..._fuck_. This girl makes everything impossible.

"Edward," she gushes. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you were coming back until the weekend."

I give a small shrug and a sheepish smile as I shut off my phone. "I couldn't stay away," I say smoothly. "You surprised?"  
"Yes." She grins again.

"Can I come in?"

She hesitates. "Oh! Yeah, um, come on." She shuts the door behind me as I enter and then starts poking and prodding at the bag in my hand. "What's this?"

"Lasagna and wine."

"Lasagna? Where did it come from? Is it already cooked?" She tries to take it from me.

"Slow down....it has to cook for an hour. And I got it at this really good Italian place in Olympia. They make lasagnas and freeze them so you can cook them at home."

"Okay," she says, finally succeeding in taking the bag. She carries it to the kitchen and sets the wine and lasagna on the counter. "I'll go ahead and put it in the oven."

"The directions are on the top of the container."

I glance around the apartment and see that it's small but cozy. The couch is large and plush, with soft pillows and a maroon throw across the back. There are several pictures on the wall and shelves – I glance at the closest one and see that it's Bella and the kid from the bar. They're very young, probably around ten years old, and Bella is in a one-piece bathing suit, all skinny legs and awkwardness. She also has several candles and a small entertainment stand full of DVDs. The bouquet of flowers sits on the kitchen counter and takes up nearly all the room. And just as Bella had stated, I can smell them from several feet away.

"What are these?" I look over and find Bella holding the movies I brought. She's examining the titles.

"I thought we could watch a movie. We don't have to, though, if you'd rather do something else."

"No," she interjects, "a movie sounds good. _Psycho...The Exorcist...The Shining?_" She quirks an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I ask innocently. "You don't like scary movies?"

I'm sure it's glaringly obvious why I only brought horror flicks. They work – what can I say? Women look for any excuse they can to cling to men during these movies.

"I'm not a big fan of horror movies," she states flatly and shoves them back in the bag. _Oh..._ "But I'm sure I have something you'll like." She saunters over to her entertainment stand, swinging her hips lightly as she does. I shamelessly stare, fully aware that she can't see me.

"Let's see..." she says, scanning the titles. She suddenly starts plucking movies out at random. I catch a few titles..._Dirty Dancing, Clueless, Sense and Sensibility..._

_Holy Shit! _Is she seriously going to recommend a chick flick? Over a horror movie? Seriously??

She finds one she is apparently pleased with because she turns around to face me, smiling widely. "Can we please watch this one?" she asks, hugging the movie to her chest. "It's my favorite movie _ever_."

I'm almost a little scared to ask.

"What is it?" I ask warily. It really doesn't matter because I know, no matter what she chooses, I'll say yes. She presents the movie cover to me, still grinning manically.

It's motherfucking _Grease_.

God, kill me now.

I force my most genuine, charming smile. "Sure, beautiful. Any movie you like is fine with me."

"Thank you," she says sincerely. She moves towards me; standing on her tip-toes she stretches up and kisses me on the cheek, taking me completely by surprise. Agreeing to this movie could be the best decision I've made so far. While walking back to the kitchen she giggles and asks, "Have you seen it?"  
"Parts of it," I answer truthfully. She sure is giddy tonight...oh yes, the pain medicine. I keep forgetting, though it should be glaringly obvious with her wrapped wrist. "Does your wrist hurt?" I ask.

"Not anymore." She looks at me and smiles again, for no reason it seems, or for a reason I can't determine. It's infectious; she's cute this way. Like a little kid at Christmas.

"Good."

She begins searching her kitchen drawers. "You want some wine now?"

"You should probably chill it some more," I suggest. "It just traveled in a hot car for an hour."

"Okay," she agrees. She sticks it inside the refrigerator. "Do you want something else to drink? I have some Merlot...some Bud Light...Dr. Pepper and...water."

I smile. "That's quite an appealing list."

She shrugs indifferently. "I usually drink water unless I need to relax, in which case Mr. Bud and Mrs. Merlot make their appearance." She giggles again, as if she'd just told a very amusing joke. "So? Do you want something?"

I shake my head. "I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself." She pulls out a Bud Light and wraps the hem of her shirt around the cap to open it. She takes a very large swig.

"Be careful," I warn her, quickly remembering that she doesn't like to be told what to do. "You shouldn't mix a lot of alcohol with Percocet."

"Yes, Eduardo," she says with a laugh.

"Bella..."

"Eduardo..." she mocks, matching my tone.

She's teasing me! The little vixen.

I smile. "What am I going to do with that smart mouth of yours?" I muse to myself.

"I can think of plenty of things you could do with my mouth," she answers, her eyes shining deviously. She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. It's highly erotic and sends my mind racing for the gutter. _Holy shit_. Did she really just say that?

She has the craziest mood swings. One moment she's slamming doors in my face and the next moment we seem one small step away from her bedroom. I never know where I stand with her. It's simultaneously intriguing and frustrating.

I raise my eyebrows suggestively. "Is that right? Care to demonstrate?"

She blushes, a small trait I've really grown to like. It shows the hidden vulnerability in this usually quirky and self-assured girl. I can tell she hates it, which makes it that much more appealing to me.

She clears her throat, recovering. "Edward Cullen," she tsks me. "I'm beginning to think you've never had to work for a thing in your life."

"On the contrary, Bella Swan. I've worked very hard for everything I have."

She looks at me thoughtfully, her expression unreadable. Eventually she blinks and looks down. "Good to know," she says. "Want to go ahead and start the movie?"

I don't plan on watching any of the movie. If I'm lucky I'll be able to tune the whole thing out.

"Sure."

"You sure you don't want something to drink?" She gestures towards the kitchen again, beer in hand.

"Nah. I'm good."

She puts the DVD in while I sit on the couch. She's bent over at the waist, giving me a great view of her ass. Is she doing this on purpose? She looks back and catches me staring. _Fuck!_

"See something you like?" she boldly asks. I feign innocence.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't give me that. You were staring at my ass!"

Damn. Busted.

"Well, it's a nice view," I confess. She rolls her eyes and moves to sit beside me, plopping down on the couch. There's still a good two feet of space between us.

"You know," she begins, picking up the remote to start the movie, "if you weren't so good-looking I'd kick you out for a comment like that."

I'm taken aback. She thinks I'm good-looking? It's the first actual compliment I've gotten from her.

"So if I was ugly I'd be a goner, huh?" I ask coolly.

"Pretty much."

"Ever heard of inner beauty?"

She looks at me skeptically out the corner of her eye; then she scoffs.

"Sure I have," she says. "But you look good on my couch. Kind of like an accessory...like a fancy throw pillow."

"You're comparing me to a throw pillow?" I feign offense.

"A _fancy_ throw pillow," she clarifies, and suddenly she starts giggling hysterically. She buries her red face in one of her _actual_ throw pillows. I know it's from the pain pills, but I can't help it; her laughter is infectious and I join in.

She starts the movie, then pauses it two minutes in to go put the lasagna in the oven – as if she hasn't seen the movie a million times already – and when she sits back down I notice she's a bit closer to me. If I move my leg to the left, ever so slightly, it will touch hers. I give it a try, just to see what smart thing she'll come up with to deter me, but to my surprise she remains silent.

We watch for a little while in silence. Bella never takes her eyes off the TV; I try not to cringe every time a new song starts.

"I haven't seen this in a while," she eventually comments. "What's your favorite song?"

"Favorite song?"

"Yeah. It's a musical..."

"I don't really remember how they all go."

"Shut up!" she exclaims, slapping me on the leg. I grin; she's quite amusing this way. "I couldn't forget these songs if I tried. Want to know my favorite?"

"Um, sure..."

"Hold on, I'll fast forward it. Then we can start from the beginning and see them all."

_Jesus Christ_. She picks up the remote, suddenly on a mission, and begins skipping through the scenes. I couldn't care less what _Grease_ song she likes the most. They're all equally horrid.

When she finally finds her scene she hits play. It's the one where the girls are all in their underwear, jumping around and singing on the bed. She could have done worse, to be honest.

Bella sits up straight and grins as the song begins. I rub my chin and try to appear halfway interested.

_Damn, I really should have shaved this morning..._

"Edward, are you watching?"

I look over quickly. "Yes," I lie.

"Watch this part," she urges. "It's my favorite. Are you watching? Edward! Are you watching?"

"Christ, Bella, yes. I'm watching."

She suddenly does her own Stockard Channing impersonation, splaying her arms dramatically as she sings along. "Elvis, Elvis! Let me be! Keep that pelvis _far_ from me!" She breaks into hysterics as she finishes. I shake my head, highly amused.

"I think I'm gonna have to hide the rest of your pills," I comment.

"You know you're having fun," she challenges.

"You sure you don't want to watch _Psycho_?"

She sobers. "Do you not like _Grease_? I'm not a mind-reader, Edward. You have to tell me." She pokes me in the side and I flinch. She gasps. "Are you _ticklish_?"

_Shit_. "No."

She pokes me again. "You sure?"

"Bella..."

"What?" Another poke. I quickly grab her hand, wrap an arm around her waist, and drag her on top of me. She squeals in surprise. She's incapacitated, exactly as I prefer. "Edward!" she shrieks.

"What?" I ask innocently, and with another sudden flip she's pinned to the couch and I'm hovering above her. I hold her against the cushions, trapping her, and ask in a low voice, "I think the important question is are _you_ ticklish, Miss Swan?"

Her breathing becomes erratic as she struggles feebly against me. "No!" she cries fearfully. "_Truce!"_

"I didn't get a truce."

"You didn't ask for one."

"Give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn't do this."

She stills beneath me and seems to think about it. "Because you're merciful?" she asks slowly, uncertain. Her wide eyes never leave mine. Our faces are inches away, our noses nearly touching. It's exactly how I've wanted her...

"Is that what you think?" I ask, my voice dangerously low. It's actually a lot of fun messing with her. She swallows hard and nods.

"It's what I _hope_."

I lean in again, putting my lips so close to her ear that she's sure to feel my breath as I speak. "Well I think you're sadly mistaken." She shudders and remains silent. Is it possible that I've finally managed to render the audacious Bella Swan speechless?

"Well I think you're all talk."

No, I guess not.

I attack her sides, earning an ear-piercing shriek, and she struggles and wiggles below me until she's slipped out of my arms and onto the floor with a hard thud. She's not deterred, quickly scrambling from the spot and kneeing the coffee table as she makes a mad dash for the kitchen.

"Edward! You do _not_ attack women that way! Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

I roll over on the couch, back into a sitting position, and try not to frown as her words send my euphoria into a spinning nose-dive. I try not to think of my mother...any little reminder is nothing but a swell of heartache. It's not something I want to revisit – not here, not now.

I force a smile, masking these thoughts. "Sorry," I say simply.

She looks at me suspiciously from behind the kitchen counter. "What's wrong with you?"

_Shit_. "Nothing." I grab the remote from where it fell on the floor, hoping to change the subject. "Care if I turn this off?" They're all motherfucking singing _again_. Bella looks from me to the TV, her brown eyes widening.

"No! We're supposed to watch it from the beginning." She begins walking towards me, probably to wrestle the remote away.

"Wouldn't you rather watch _Lost_?" I propose. "I haven't seen all the episodes of season four."

"So you don't like _Grease_, then?" she asks suspiciously.

"Not really."

"Then why didn't you say something?"  
"Because you wanted to watch it."

She rolls her eyes. "And they say women are hard to understand." She goes to take the remote from me but I pull it away, out of her reach. She narrows her eyes.

"Are we watching _Lost_?" I ask, stuffing the remote behind my back.

"I could get that thing if I really wanted it, Edward," she threatens.

"Come and get it, then."

"Are you challenging me?"

"Are you accepting my challenge?"

She stares at me menacingly and I return her gaze, refusing to relent. Then she straightens with a new resolve and takes me by complete fucking surprise when she drops into my lap, a knee beside each thigh, straddling me. _Holy shit!_ She leans in close, her face an inch from mine, and breathes, "It'd be in your best interest to hand it over now, Edward."

_I think I'd have to disagree, Bella._

I have a raging erection almost immediately and she's sitting right on fucking top of it. Take away our clothes and I'd be one quick slip away from being sheathed inside...

It's taking all of my self-control to keep my hands behind my back – to keep the remote hidden. But I have to know where she's going with this.

I swallow hard, trying not to implode as she shifts ever so slightly in my lap.

"You really don't know me, then," I reply. "I hardly ever do anything that's in my best interest."

She smirks at me. "Then I'd have to say I know you very well."

She puts her hands on my shoulders for support, slowly sliding them down my arms, feeling them, and I know she's making her way to the remote. My grip tightens. She shifts in my lap again, and from her knowing, shit-eating grin I'd venture that she's completely aware of what she's doing.

As her hands travel further down my arms she's forced to lean in, putting her face dangerously close to my own. Her sweet breath fans across my cheek just has her hand grasps the end of the remote. She tugs to no avail.

"I don't think so, Swan," I say in a low voice. "You really thought it would be that easy?"

I can't see her face; it's hidden, now close to my shoulder as she leans in and twists her hand to get a better grip.

"I'm willing to work for what I want," she promises.

"Is that right?"

Her nose suddenly skims my neck, trailing my skin until it's behind my ear, touching my hairline. She inhales deeply, her entire chest rising until it presses against mine. _Holy shit. _Is she seriously doing what I think she's doing?

Her nose trails along my jaw, barely touching, until she's facing me again. She looks at me with smoldering eyes, her lips _so_ close to mine...

_Fuck it_.

I lean forward, hoping to finally claim those sweet lips, but am met with the smooth skin of her cheek as she suddenly turns her head to the side. Almost instantaneously, the oven-timer alarms. With labored breaths and flushed cheeks Bella quickly clambers out of my lap and to the kitchen, mumbling, "I have to get that."

I sigh and toss the remote aside before running two hands through my hair in frustration. Is she purposefully cockblocking me? Why is she doing this? Was she like this with James? A fucking tease and then--

"Edward, will you come open the wine?" she asks, interrupting my thoughts. She's staring at me timidly, her wide, brown eyes apprehensive. With another sigh I stand up and adjust my jeans. I do it right in front of her, shamelessly, so that she'll know what she fucking does to me and what she's leaving me to deal with...alone.

"Sure, Bella."

* * *

Hope everyone had a good holiday! This chapter was TWICE as long as the last chap...even if it doesn't seem like it *points finger threateningly at everyone* My longest chapter to date, so I hope you enjoy.

Thanks to ms_ambrosia for correcting my neverending your/you're mistakes and such. She polishes this story up nice and purrdy. And thanks to passionmama for coming up with some awesome ideas and entertaining me endlessly over the holiday. I'll never get writers block with this girl, I swear to God, her wonderfully twisted mind never stops.

Thanks to those of you who sent me personal stories of real life fuckery...they cracked me up. And if I sent anyone a teaser twice...or multiple times...*hides face in shame*....then sorry. I don't even fucking know.

And yes, I totally pimped _Lost_ this chapter. That show is like my other dirty secret. Sigh...

-mybluesky


	8. Chapter 8

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 8

BPOV

Uh oh. He looks mad. Maybe I've pushed him too far. Holy shit, what do I do now?

I clear my throat softly but he doesn't seem to hear. He's distracted, running both hands through his mop of messy hair, and I can practically feel his frustration radiating across the room.

I'm a little nervous, to be perfectly honest. He's incredibly sexy, I'll admit, but I don't really know this man. I've never seen him react with other people, unless you count our servers. And I've never met any of his friends, unless you count James.

Then, in a rush of relief, I remember Emmett. _Oh, thank fucking gosh_. Emmett said mostly nice things about Edward. He made him out to be a decent guy when overlooking his womanizing qualities. And for some reason unbeknowest to me, I trust that big oaf. Rose really seems to like him, at least, and I trust her judgment.

I find the bottle opener in one of my drawers. "Edward," I finally say, "will you come open the wine?"

I nearly expect him to stand up and start screaming at me. What will I do if he does? Will I stand here and take it...will I apologize?

I feel a little frustrated as well. This is already too complicated for me. _Fuck no_ I'm not apologizing. He made a bet on me – as far as I'm concerned, a years' worth of cockblocking wouldn't be enough to make up for that.

He stands up and – I swear on the tallest stack of bibles – he adjusts his boner _right in front of me, _sneaking in a glare as he does. Yeah, he's obviously not happy.

But his voice is surprisingly calm.

"Sure, Bella."

He walks to the kitchen and silently takes the wine opener. When I catch his gaze I'm met with a stony stare. I turn away, flushing, and busy myself by retrieving the wine from the refrigerator. He takes it without a word.

Damn, this has quickly turned into the most awkward moment of my life. I should have just fucking kissed him. It's practically all I've thought about for the whole weekend. And kissing most certainly isn't fucking – there'd be no harm in it, right?

While he opens the wine I pull the lasagna from the oven, its delicious smell immediately wafting throughout the kitchen. I'm momentarily distracted.

"Mmm. This smells _good_."

I hear the _pop_ as the cork is removed from the wine bottle. "Do you have any wine glasses?"

I sigh and pull two glasses from one of my top cabinets. My wrist isn't hurting, but it seems my happy buzz from the pills has completely worn off. Edward doesn't even look at me as he takes the glasses.

"Can you please stop that?" I finally demand, exasperated.

He finally makes eye contact, his green eyes impassive. "Stop what?"

_Yeah...like you don't fucking know. Jerk_.

Feeling bold, I reply, "If you have something to say to me then just say it."

He pours me a small glass of wine and hands it over in silence. I want to protest – right now I feel like I could use the whole bottle – but I have more pressing matters to attend to.

"Are you mad at me?"

He looks at me curiously, taking a sip from his own glass. "Why would I be mad at you?"

Honestly? "Because I gave you a boner and didn't follow through."

He nearly chokes on his wine. I'm happy to have finally gotten a response from him.

"So is that it, then?" I ask bitterly, although it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. Of_ course_ that's it.

He now looks cross, a mixture of anger, disbelief, and frustration. "So you know what you're doing, then? All that--" he gestures towards the sofa, "--was on purpose?"  
Damn it. This is certainly a conversation I never wanted to have. I'm obviously not nearly as suave as I think I am. There's no way I can pull this off for two weeks – I'm sure to either give in, spontaneously combust, or burst into flames at the sight of Eduardo's stony glare.

The former sounds preferable. Despite the palpable awkwardness that's lingering around, Edward is fucking hot when he's angry.

I need to feign innocence – it's my only strategy.

I lower my eyes in defeat. "I'm sorry," I mumble. "I guess I'm just nervous."

Edward sighs loudly and runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on edge. I subconsciously lick my lips."Why are you nervous, Bella?" he asks, his voice softer.

It's now or never. "I guess this is all just kind of fast to me. We've only known each other a few days..."  
"I'm not trying to force you to do something you don't want to do. You know that, right?" I keep my eyes lowered, but suddenly he puts a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His green eyes are remorseful. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just..." He sighs in frustration. "One moment you're straddling me, breathing all over my neck, and the next moment you're hightailing it to the kitchen. I'm starting to get whiplash from these sudden mood swings – I can't keep up."

I nod – I guess I have been running pretty hot and cold with him. I would expect a similar reaction out of any man. And of course Edward was already extraordinarily cocky; I doubt he's ever had this problem before. He probably doesn't know what to think.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I feel a little idiotic now. It seems I'm giving _myself _whiplash.

He frowns. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bella."

"I'm sending mixed signals."  
"So what do you want, then? Just tell me."

I give a small, halfhearted smile. "You know it's never that easy with women."

He grins and it's such a relief to see his smile again. "Obviously."

"What is it that _you_ want, Edward?" I challenge, wondering how much he'll reveal. He still has my chin in his fingers; he rubs his thumb across my cheek and with his signature crooked smile answers,

"You."

Damn, he makes it hard to breathe when he gets like this. He should really come with a warning label or something.

"How do you want me?" I prod.

"However I can have you."

"I'm not one of those girls who puts out on the first date, you know."

"I'm well aware, Bella, seeing as how this is our third date. And I'm not trying to pressure you into 'putting out', as you like to call it." I'm silent as I struggle for a response that won't give my knowledge of the bet away. He moves his hand from my chin and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. "Now tell me something _you_ want, Bella."

Something _I_ want? The truth blurts from my lips before I can stop it.

"Trust."

I don't trust Edward, plain and simple. He's nice, good-looking, charming...and untrustworthy. How many hearts have shattered in his hands? I don't want to know.

He blinks, searching my face. I wonder what he's looking for – what thoughts are concealed by his scrutinizing eyes? Did I just give too much away? My heart begins to pound against my chest as I wait for his response...

"Trust," he repeats. His hand drops to his side. "You don't trust me?"

_No_. "I don't know."

He doesn't look angry or offended. He looks...repentant? Is it possible that he may actually feel guilty for what he's doing?

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Bella," he says. I note that he doesn't try to persuade me. He knows I don't trust him, yet he's resigned to this fact.

Because he's _not_ trustworthy...and he knows this.

He downs his entire glass of wine in one quick gulp and then pours another. I watch him closely, analyzing his every move, before moving around him to pull some plates from the cabinets. My thoughts are a complete mess. One the one hand, a big part of me – a _massive_ part – wants to jump and ravage this god before he gets away. I know he won't be around forever. But then my rational side is waving warning flags, urging me to back the fuck up before I get hurt.

I'm not a virgin, but I do have morals. I don't just fuck men for the sake of getting some. I _need_ trust and commitment.

I retrieve a knife and Edward cuts into the lasagna in silence. It's awkward again. I don't know what to say to make it better. I opt for something small.

"We can watch _Lost_."

He smiles kindly at me, spooning lasagna onto my plate. "_Grease_ is fine."

"I like _Lost_ better. And you said you didn't like _Grease_."

He shrugs. "Not really."

"Alright then. We both like _Lost_. This makes more sense."

"Sure, Bella. But whatever you want to watch is fine."

"Edward!" I shout; he starts. "Stop saying stuff just to please me. Because right now _that_ doesn't please me."

Edward looks confused at first, then he grins. "Would you rather I argue with all your decisions?"

"I'd rather you have your own opinion."

"I brought the horror movies, didn't I?"

"Yes, and I vetoed those. Now you get to veto something."

"Then I veto _Grease_."

"Good, then I suggest _Lost_."

"I thought _I _suggested _Lost."_

I smile. "You're really good at this arguing thing, you know."

"That's not the only thing I'm good at." He winks and I gasp.

"Perv! Do you ever think about anything else?"

"Sometimes," he answers. He's still smiling deviously. I roll my eyes, fighting a grin, and head for the sofa.

"Let's eat in the living room." Edward cocks an eyebrow but follows my lead. "What?" I ask defensively. "What's wrong with eating in the living room?"

"I didn't say anything," Edward quickly assures.

"But you were thinking something."

"No, I wasn't."

"Were, too."

"Was not."

"The sofa's the most comfortable seat in most homes, you know. It makes more sense to eat here when it's just a few people." I sit down and make myself comfortable, pulling the throw across my lap. Edward sits down beside me, so close that our legs touch. I don't mind – I love touching him. I can't wait to straddle his lap again...

_Oh fuck_. Did I just say _again_? I really need to quit thinking this way.

"Want me to put the DVD in?" Edward asks.

"Oh yeah!" I exclaim. I'd completely forgotten. "Go ahead."

I stare at his ass as he stands in front of the entertainment stand, just as he'd done mine. I didn't mind his actions – it actually gave me a small boost of confidence. And how could I be offended when I was sitting here, shamelessly staring and - let's be honest - imagining him naked?

When in the hell did I develop such raging hormones? Does Eduardo really have that kind of power over me?

He starts the show at the first episode and we watch in a comfortable silence. He's sitting close again, our legs just barely touching. I'm completely distracted as I recall how it had felt to sit in his lap, his obvious bulge pressed against me, as I felt his hard, toned arms and inhaled his delicious scent...

Edward asks me a question and I miss it. "Huh?" I mumble.

"I asked what you think about the newcomers."

"The who?" It takes me a second to realize he's talking about the show. "Oh! Yeah, they seem okay, I guess." He quirks an eyebrow at me. "What?"

"Are you even watching the show? You seem distracted."

"Um, I'm fine," I mumble. "My wrist is just hurting a little." The pain _is_ starting to creep back in, so that's not a complete lie.

"Have you iced it lately?"

"It's not really swollen anymore..."

"Here," he says, holding out his hand. "Let me see it." I place my wrapped hand in his and he gingerly unsnaps the hooks and begins unwrapping the ace bandage. I can think of nothing else except the feel of his hands on me, even if he is only touching my arm.

He sets the ace wrap aside when he's done. My hand is all creased and gross looking from the bandage – I'm almost a little embarrassed to let him see it. But then he sets it in his lap and starts to rub it gently, his touch smooth and soft and divine...and I can't pull it away. I don't want to. My eyes roll back a little and he chuckles.

"Does that feel good?"

_No shit, _I think, and I immediately scold myself because damn, I have a smart mouth. Thank goodness my verbal filter occasionally works.

"It feels heavenly," I say instead. _I'll say whatever you want me to...just don't stop..._

"Want me to rub your back?"

My entire body stiffens as I enter hyper-alert mode. I'm conflicted – hell yes, I want him to rub my back. I want those hands all over me. But is that really a good idea?

"Um, I don't know..."

"I don't bite, Bella. I promise," he says, smirking. I flush as I think of him biting me...oh my. If he only knew...

"Well, okay. Sure. But I'm not taking my shirt off!" I point a threatening finger, daring him to argue. He rolls his eyes.

"I never asked you to. Here, come sit in front of me."

He spreads his legs on the couch and pats the seat, inviting me to sit between them. Holy shit, I'm about to sit between his legs, and for some reason I can't get there fast enough.

I clamber to the spot slowly – cautiously – so as to not seem too eager. As soon as I'm situated Edward begins gathering up my hair, pushing it over my right shoulder. The feel of his fingers flitting across my back causes me to shiver.

"Are you cold?" he asks softly.

"No, I'm okay," I assure. More than okay, actually. Then his hands grasp my shoulders and he begins to knead. There are no words to describe the heavenly bliss that ensues. My eyes roll straight to the back of my head and I'm so thankful he can't see my face.

I moan during as he craftily attacks all the right places. Edward chuckles once, but at this point I don't even fucking care. All I can focus on is how good his hands feel...and the fact that he hasn't, even once, tried to make some kind of sneaky little pass at me. I wonder if he really does feel guilty...

I'm not close enough to feel him, but I bet he has an erection. I quickly rectify the situation by scooting backwards, right up against his chest. His whole body tenses against mine and his hands pause on my shoulders. I think he even stops breathing.

And yes, he has an erection. A very big one, from the feel of things.

"Bella," he says, his tone warning and a tad strained. "You're making this very hard for me."

I mumble a quick apology and scoot forward again. At least I solved my little mystery, which is all I'd really set out to do in the first place.

"Christ," he mutters under his breath. "Are you _trying_ to do me in?"

"I was just trying to get more comfortable," I lie in my innocent voice. His hands start kneading again. "Mmm. That feels really good."

"Sure you don't wanna take your shirt off?" he playfully prods.

"Yes, Eduardo, I'm sure." I roll my eyes even though he can't see them.

"Hmm...I'm starting to like it when you call me Eduardo."

"You do?" Surprised, I twist around to face him. He's smirking, his green eyes alive with humor. "Well that's good, because I didn't plan on stopping."

"I know, Bella," he assures, pushing my shoulders so that I'll face the other way again. _Lost_ has gone off, the main screen replaying over and over. "So do I get to come up with a ridiculous nickname for you?"

"You're not clever enough," I scoff. His hands pause on my shoulders.

"Is that right?"

"I'm just kidding, Eduardo. Keep your hair on."

"What am I gonna do with you?" he muses. His hands work their way over my shoulder blades, down my spine, and dangerously close to my ticklish sides – I squirm away like I've been bitten and he hasn't even done anything. "What's wrong?" he asks innocently. _Too_ innocently.

"Don't you _dare_ try to start something again, Edward, or I swear you'll regret it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Swan. I'm just giving you the best back massage of your life over here..."

"Your arrogance covers all areas, yes?" I squirm from between his legs and back to my side of the couch. I can only take very small increments of this man touching my body before I really will combust.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not arrogant," he says. He looks offended. I don't care in the slightest – _someone_ needs to deflate his ego a bit. It doesn't seem as if anyone else is up to the task.

"You were arrogant enough to think I would sleep with you on the – oh, let's see – third date," I challenge.

"That's not unreasonable," he quickly argues.

"Bullshit!"

"I happen to know that your friend Rose slept with Emmett before they even went on a date."

_Shit_! How does he know about that? Damn Rose and her easy ways.

"Did Emmett tell you that?" I ask, aghast.

"He didn't have to. She was with him all day and they never left his house."

I cross my arms and huff. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Have you asked her?"

"That's girl talk – also known as none of your concern."  
He just smirks at me, the little devil! "I told you." I scowl.

"Well I happen to be a little more traditional. And Sunday shouldn't even count as a date, seeing as how most of it was spent in the E.R."

"Correction – in that case, Sunday should count as _two_ dates."

"Why am I even having this conversation with you?"

"Because you called me arrogant."

"Well, you are arrogant."

"Would you like to start the conversation over?"

We look at each other seriously, both of us practically squaring off right here on my sofa. Then, simultaneously, we burst into laughter.

It's equally screwed up and hilarious.

When we recover I offer to start another episode of _Lost_ but Edward politely declines.

"I have to drive back to Olympia tonight," he explains. "I should really probably go."

"Oh, okay. Well I can walk you downstairs." I stand up and move to put my shoes on.

"You don't have to, Bella."

"I _want_ to."

"Then who's gonna walk you back up?"

I roll my eyes. "Please, Edward. I walk around this place by myself all the time."

"You really shouldn't, you know. It's not safe."

"This is one of the safest apartments in Seattle. I'll be fine."

"You really don't know how to let someone else have their way, do you?" he asks teasingly.

I grin. "Nope."

He re-wraps my wrist with the ace bandage and we use the elevator even though my apartment is only on the third floor. There's no one else around; the elevator is quiet and enclosed and intimate. We don't even look at each other as we descend. What is it about these things that makes sexual tension run high?

As we exit I casually ask, "Should I be expecting anymore surprise visits this week?"

He smiles. "You didn't enjoy it?"

"No, I did."

"I enjoy seeing you, Bella. I'll have to see how work goes this week. If it's busy I probably won't be able to make it."

I nod, hoping I don't appear as disappointed as I feel. It's strange how I already enjoy his company. I wonder whether he feels an inkling of the same or is anxious to be rid of me. He _seems_ to enjoy our little dates – at least when I'm not cockblocking the hell out of him – but that could all be a carefully crafted act.

Why, oh _why_, do you have to be a womanizer, Eduardo?

But I guess if he hadn't made the bet then we wouldn't have met. Or maybe we would have, on the off chance that he still frequented the clubs and approached me under normal circumstances. Would he have even done that without the bet?

But there's no point in dwelling on the "what if's". It is what it is.

I sigh.

"Well, I had fun tonight," I say. We've reached the entrance – I figure he probably won't like me accompanying him all the way outside. "Thanks for coming to visit. And for the lasagna – it was yummy."

He turns to face me with a crooked smile. "I had fun tonight, too. And I'm sorry again about earlier – I was being an ass."

I shrug my shoulders in indifference. "You were, but I guess it comes with the arrogance." I grin so that he'll know I'm teasing. He scowls.

"You're gonna start that again, huh?"

"Not tonight." I feign a yawn and push him towards the door. "I'm tired. You need to go." I shoo him and he chuckles.

"I see. Anxious to get rid of me all of a sudden?"

"Something like that. I've got ten more shows to watch. It's gonna be a long night."

He smirks. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks."

"Sweet dreams, Bella. I'll talk to you soon."

With a quick kiss on the cheek he turns to walk away and I mentally chastise myself. It's as if my mind is divided, waging war – one part, the sexually repressed, is angry and clawing her way to freedom. It seems just the sight of Edward has woken her from a multi-year hibernation.

The other half, which is much more rational, is now holding multiple warning flags in each hand, waving them around in near hysterics, trying to hold my attention.

It's such a hard decision, but my rational side is right – I need to listen to her. But perhaps if I just give the sexually repressed a little taste she will go away?

The vixen inside me, controlled by the sexually-repressed side, no doubt, blurts out before I can stop her. "Edward, wait!"

Edward turns around to look at me, both eyebrows raised in question. I step outside the door and walk hastily to meet him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concerned.

I shake my head. "Nothing," I assure. "It's just – I should've done this earlier. I had a great time, Edward." And with that said I grab his shirt, yanking him to me, and capture his lips with my own. His shocked green eyes seem to glow in the darkness, but he quickly gains control of the situation and closes them; his hands snake around my back and pull me flush with his body. My hands do what they've been begging to do since meeting Eduardo...they snake up his chest, feeling every hard inch, and eventually settle in his silky hair.

I part my lips and Edward takes full advantage, his tongue darting through to expertly caress my own. I moan, surrounded by his touch and his wonderful smell, in a daze. My toes curl in my shoes. The kiss is quite...passionate...and when he eventually pulls away I'm left breathless and weak, as if I'd just run a marathon.

It's quite disarming. I'd never had a kiss that was so..._intense_.

Edward is just as breathless as I am, which makes me feel slightly better. But I flush when I meet his gaze, embarrassed for just throwing myself on him that way.

"Well, _that_ was something," he says, smiling lightly.

Something, indeed.

I hope I didn't just make a terrible mistake. I need to consult Rose...oh, God, she's not going to be happy about this. But I didn't sleep with him. _I did nothing wrong! _Is it so wrong to want to be kissed by a pretty boy every once in awhile?

I need to get out of here, pronto. I can feel a full-fledged panic brewing.

"Thanks again, Edward," I say, my face burning a thousand degrees. I stand on my tip-toes and kiss him one last time, briefly – why the fuck not? We just played tonsil hockey here in the parking lot for five minutes. One more peck isn't going to hurt. "Drive safely. I've gotta go."

I turn and walk away slowly, hoping to prevent that whole whiplash thing he spoke about earlier. It takes every ounce of restraint not to sprint out of there like hell is chasing after me.

* * *

Thanks to all my beautiful, lovely reviewers, alerters, and favoriters. I can't tell you how giddy it makes me that some of you actually enjoy this crazy shit I write. Thanks to ms_ambrosia for betaing and making this pretty and passionmama for her support and ideas.

As always, I'd love to hear what you think. Think the kiss was a bad idea? Something you woulda done way before now? *whistles innocently* I wanna know...

-mybluesky


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Nine

I take the stairs and once I'm out of Edward's sight I sprint up all three stories, running off some of my anxiety. By the time I make it to my apartment my rational side has taken over and now she's worried about Rose. I'm suddenly not so sure telling her about the kiss is a good idea. Holy fuck. What do I do? I need to tell _somebody_.

Fuck it, I need to tell her. She and Emmett will know what to do. Is she with him now? I pick up the phone and dial. It goes to her voice mail, which provokes me to leave the most raging, panicked and psychotic message known to man.

"God damn it, Rose, I need you to answer your fucking phone! Don't you realize I'm having a crisis over here? Get off Emmett's nuts for _two_ seconds and support your fucking friend. _Damn it!" _I slam the phone down, chest heaving from my tirade and mini-marathon up the stairs. No one can say I didn't work out today.

I need to chill out. I need...ooohh, wine! I grab the bottle of Pinot Noir off the counter and chug what's left straight out of the bottle.

My phone rings and I swipe it from the counter. It's Rose, thank gosh.

"What the fuck is your problem?" she bellows as soon as I answer. "I was using the fucking bathroom. Are you okay? What the fuck is going on? Are you hurt?" She's completely freaking out. Way to go, Bella. If there's a way to make a situation worse I'm sure to find it.

"No, I'm not hurt," I quickly assure.

"Then what the hell was all that about? I about lost my shit over here. Are you still with Edward?"

"How'd you know I was with Edward?"

"Emmett told me...._holy shit! _Did you sleep with him!?"

"No!!"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Bella Marie Swan..."

"I didn't sleep with him! I just..." It sort of pains me to say it. "Ikindofkissedhim." I blurt the rest out in one mumbled breath.

"You what? Did you say you kissed him?"

"Um, yeah."

She lets out a loud sigh of relief. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"A kiss isn't so bad."

"It's not?"

She pauses. "Are you _sure_ you didn't sleep with him?" she demands.

"Yes! I'm sure."

"Then what the hell are you freaking out about?"

"I _kissed_ him, Rose!"

"So?"

"_So_!?"

"A kiss is _nothing_! Haven't you ever played spin the bottle? Seven minutes in heaven?"

She doesn't understand. "This was _not_ a spin the bottle type of kiss, Rose."

"Well is that all you did?"

"Yes...what else would we do?"

I can just imagine her rolling her eyes as she huffs into the receiver. "Lots of things. Were you both fully clothed?"

"Yes."

"Good. Where were you when it happened?"

"Outside. I walked him to his car."

"Oh...so a goodbye kiss?"

"Yes..."

"Well that's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"So there's no harm in doing it again?" I ask hopefully.

"Bella!" she admonishes me. "Was it _that _good?"

There's a small bit of leftover lasagna. I put the lid over it and slide it into the refrigerator, sighing. "It was better than good."

"There's nothing wrong with kissing, Bella," she assures. "I'd totally get me some of that. And it's not part of the bet, so it's not like you're letting him win. But Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Just be careful, okay? Guys like him are...dangerous to girls like you."

"Girls like me?" I'm a little offended.

"Good girls," she quickly clarifies. "Nice girls. Girls who respect themselves."

As offended as I want to be, she's right. I _am_ a good girl. I don't party, do drugs, or sleep around. I have a steady job which I've never called out of. My only vice is an occasional foul word...or few. But that's Rose's fault; she brings out the sailor in me.

Men like Edward Cullen don't go for girls like me. He's incredibly sexy, wealthy, and self-assured. He can kiss like it's nobody's business. He makes me feel things in my tummy that no person ever has before.

And I need to enjoy it while it lasts, because he won't be around for long.

---

With Rose's encouragement I get a grand idea.

The next day at lunch, while waiting in line at a local deli to purchase my food, I text Emmett.

_Can you give me Edward's address in Olympia? Thanks_. - _B_

A few moments later he texts me back, and we continue to text back and forth as I make my way back to the office.

_What for? - Em_

_I'm thinking of surprising him tonight. – B_

_Seriously? What r u planning? Spill it Swan. – Em_

_BTW I know what you did last night. - Em_

_What the fuck are you talking about? - B_

_Rose told me all about it, doll. You can kiss your private life goodbye. Oh, and I'm also having lunch with Edward right now. – Em_

_HOLY SHIT does he know you're talking to me? - B_

_Keep your knickers on. No, he doesn't know. – Em_

_Are you talking about me? - B_

_Maybe. – Em_

_Well?? What the fuck is he saying?? - B_

_He said you were practically begging him to fuck you right there in the street. – Em_

_ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!? - B_

_LOL! No, I made that up. - Em_

_You ass. I nearly slung mayo on a poor child in my fury. – B_

_That would've been awesome!! But I actually think he is feeling some remorse. – Em_

_Because of the kiss? - B_

_Because of the bet, duh. – Em_

_Good. He should feel remorse. Does he know you know? - B_

_No. – Em_

_Good. You guys in Olympia? - B_

_Yes, light day at work. - E_

_Oh, okay. Address, please. – B_

_I HAVE to know what you're planning. - Em_

_Why? I'm sure you'll find out every tiny detail of my life through Rose anyway. – B_

_True, but maybe I want to provide the gossip first this time. – Em_

_Too late, she already knows. – B_

_WHAT! - Em_

_Muhaha. You suck, you lose, women rule all, now give me the address. – B_

_Not with that attitude. – Em_

_Don't make me come over there. – B_

_Have you gotten a cat yet? - Em_

_No. You're out of your mind if you think I'm buying a cat for this. – B_

_Why not? It's a good idea. – Em_

_What will I do with it when I'm done? I'll be stuck with a smelly cat. – B_

_Put an ad in the paper – Em_

_No. – B_

_DO IT! - Em_

_NO!! - B_

_Edward's right, you are a bitch. – Em_

_WHAT!? - B_

_LOL. Holy shit you're TOO easy. – Em_

_You're not funny. – B_

_Not even a tiny bit? - Em_

_No. Now give me the address and bugger off somewhere. – B_

_What are you going to do? You planning more tonsil hockey? - Em_

_That's none of your concern. And I want to cook him dinner...at his house. – B_

_A surprise dinner? - Em_

_Yes. – B_

_I'll only give it to you if you promise me you're gonna fuck with him some more. – Em_

_Duh. - B_

_He needs more tonsil hockey, too. I think he's feeling a little blue right now. - Em_

_Double duh. - B_

_1405 Desoto Drive – Em_

_Thank you kindly, good sir. – B_

_Give him hell, ma lady. - Em_

_---_

EPOV

Emmett's already gotten us a table at The Bread Peddler for lunch. I slide into the booth opposite of him and immediately reach for the menu. I notice two beer bottles, one still full, sitting on the table.

"What's this?" I ask incredulously.

"Uh, Mich Ultra. What the fuck does it look like?" he asks, regarding me warily, as if I'm crazy.

"I'm working, Em. I can't drink beer."

"You're the boss. You can do whatever the fuck you want."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Sure it does. Otherwise, what's the point?"

The waitress sees me arrive and comes over to inquire about our orders. I immediately order a water and Emmett rolls his eyes as she saunters away.

"Dude, no one's ever gotten drunk off of one little beer," he protests.

"Yeah, well." I don't offer more than that. He grabs the bottle from my side of the table and takes a huge swig, downing half its contents. The waitress returns with my water just as he takes a low burp – one from deep in the belly. It's disgusting. The waitress frowns at him and takes a little step back, probably afraid its going to come flying back out at her.

Emmett recovers and sets the bottle down. "Sorry," he says, remembering his manners. He doesn't look embarrassed. That fucker never does.

"Um, that's okay," says the waitress, flushing red enough for the three of us. It immediately reminds me of Bella and I smile a little at the thought. "Are you ready to order?"

We both nod; when we're done she hurries away again, making no show of lingering around our table. Another server delivers our bread and Emmett rips off a large piece, eying me thoughtfully as he chews.

I'm the first to speak again. "So how are things with you and Rosalie?"

His eyes light up just at the mention of her name. Emmett's been known to have a girlfriend or two, but never has he moved so quickly before. They usually go out once or twice before he even mentions her to anyone.

"Things are great!" he boasts. "We went out to dinner Monday night, after work, and actually had a real good time."

"Are you surprised?"

He furrows his brow as he debates my question, both elbows propped on the table as he takes another pull from his beer.

"No, not exactly. It's just a bit...strange, I guess. Because usually the girls I meet are either tigers in the bedroom with no sustenance – no intellect – or else they're great conversationalists, and very smart, but it's like having sex with Blow Up Betty."

I snort. "Because _you_ would know that."

He waves a hand dismissively. "Whatever, dude. You know what I mean. Rosalie is the first girl I've met in years who's the full package. Seriously, I think I'm in love."

"You haven't gotten down on one knee yet, have you?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Fuck no. I'm not Nicholas-fucking-Cage for Christ's sake. Hell, I need at least a week."

I nearly choke on my bread. "You're thinking about it, then?" He's only known this girl for four days or so...the same amount of time I've known Bella. I can't even fathom being married right now.

Another dismissive hand wave. "You'll know when I know."

But he's not denying it. That's definitely something. But it's not like Emmett's ever been one to run from commitments – no, he's better than that.

He shifts the attention to me. "So what about you and Bella?" he asks, looking up from his bread curiously. He's eagerly awaiting my response, his blue eyes dancing with their own little joke. I don't understand the change in mood, but I keep my curiosity to myself.

I shrug indifferently. "What about us?"  
"What's going on with you two?"

"Nothing..."

"Bullshit. This is the most amount of time I've ever seen you spend with a girl. You finally settling down or something?"

"No." My answer is quipped and blunt.

"What is it then? She not putting out?" It seems he's trying to suppress a smile. Why does that fucker find this so amusing?

"No, it's not that," I mumble, growing slightly uncomfortable. "And I've only known her for four days..."

"Do you know her name?" he interrupts. I'm bewildered at the question.

"Of course. It's Bella."

"Then you know more about her than most girls you sleep with."

I'm a little shocked at the accusation, but before I can respond, our server interrupts by placing our food in front of us. She leaves to get Emmett another beer. He immediately digs in like the whole conversation never took place.

"What is that supposed to mean exactly?" I quickly ask. He looks up from his food cluelessly.

"What?"

"That I don't remember girl's names. I remember names." This is partially a lie. I remember _some_ names – but quite frankly, there are some names I don't think I ever learned to begin with. Do those girls even remember _my _name?

Everything we do, the girl wants just as badly as I. I don't pressure them. Usually, I don't even initiate things. I'm not the only guilty party.

"Whose name do you remember?" he asks curiously.

I immediately blurt out, "Lauren."

Apparently this answer isn't good enough. "That's only cause you've fucked her more than once."

"So?"

"So she doesn't count."

The waitress returns with Emmett's beer. When she's gone again I huff with agitation, "Whatever you say."

"Why are you getting so defensive?" Emmett asks defiantly. "You've never cared before."

I sigh loudly. The answer to that question is actually lost on me. But talking to Bella – the whole "trust" conversation – really made me see what an asshole I'm being to her. Other girls want it as much as I do. But she wants more. She's not out for a quick lay and she didn't approach me. She's the victim; I'm the predator.

This is just another way James has royally fucked up my life. If I lose the bet, I'm fucked. If I win then I've fucked Bella – literally and rhetorically.

Part of this is Emmett's fault. If he wouldn't have dragged me to the club then this would've never happened. If he hadn't pounded the first four shots of whiskey down my throat maybe I would have had one god damn rational thought that night. I glare at him, the clueless motherfucker that he is.

I want to tell him about the bet, to get another person's insight on things. But he's got a mouth like a foghorn and would tell Rosalie all about it before the day was over. And Rosalie would be crazy if she didn't tell Bella.

Perhaps I should just break things off with Bella now. Maybe letting James win wouldn't be the worst thing in the world....well, that's not true, seeing as how I would probably spend the next twenty years in prison for murder. Just the thought of him winning puts a bad taste in my mouth. But the thought of him losing, and what it could mean for Alice, makes me warm with relief.

I've never felt so conflicted.

I sigh, my appetite completely gone. "Maybe I should just break things off with her now."

Emmett's eyes snap up in surprise. "What?"

"With Bella. Maybe I should just stop seeing her."

Emmett has no idea of my reasoning – he's not going to understand.

"But I thought you liked her." His voice is almost whiny.

_Exactly, Emmett. Because I like her. If she was a horrible person then maybe I wouldn't care_ _about hurting her_.

"She's a nice girl, Em. And you know I don't do relationships." Not to mention she probably would, inevitably, learn about the bet. What then? She'd probably go all Lorena Bobbit on my ass. The thought alone makes me shudder.

"Well do you like her or not?" he deadpans.

"Yes, Em. I like her just fine."

"Just fine? Or a lot? There's a difference, you know. I like our waitress just fine. I like Rose a fuckin' _lot_."

"I like her, Em," I answer, exasperated. "She's fun to be around. She can hold a conversation."

_She's also gorgeous...endearing...she sticks up for herself. She tells me what she wants..._

Admittedly, I've yet to meet another girl like Bella Swan. She's certainly one of a kind.

Do I think about much else besides the way she'd feel underneath my body, just skin to skin, her warm breath against mine? No. Would I feel like the world's biggest, most selfish piece of trash when it's over?

Yes.

"Then it sounds to me like she's got half the qualities covered," Em reasons between a mouthful of food. "As long as she's good in the sack, she's golden."

Things are so simple for Emmett. I'm jealous as fucking hell. Green with motherfucking envy, I am.

His phone beeps and he fishes it out of his pocket, quickly reading a text and typing a reply. He sets it in his lap when he's done.

He addresses me again. "Look, dude. I know actually _being_ with a woman is difficult for you. But it's really kind of great when you find the right person. It gives you someone to talk to and turn to when shit gets tough. And if it's _really_ the right girl, she'll stay with you no matter what, considering you don't do anything too wacko like become an ax murderer or something. Not to mention you get sex whenever you want it." His phone beeps again and he quickly scoops it up like a child on Christmas. It must be Rosalie.

I let his words sink in, yet that's what they remain – just words. I've seen what relationships can do to people. I saw, personally, what it did to my parents.

"Just go with your gut, dude," Emmett adds. "It's what I do."

So he says as he devours his entire plate of food.

"You know, Rose mentioned that Bella just got out of a relationship with a guy named James. She mentioned him to you?"

He eyes me curiously and I feel my anxiety peak. But of course, this should be common knowledge. I suppose I'd be more worried if they _hadn't_ talked about it.

"Um, no," I mumble, suddenly really fucking uncomfortable. I shift in my seat and busy myself by finally eating some of my food. Emmett is still texting on his phone, his attention halfway elsewhere.

"Hmm. Well, he was a douche, from what I've heard," he says distractedly.

"Are you texting Rosalie?" I ask, hoping to take the focus off this topic. He looks up at me quickly, surprised.

"Umm...yeah."

"Tell her I said 'Hi'."

He nods. "Okay. Sure" He turns back to his phone to type the message. When it beeps again he says, "She says 'hi' back. So when are you going to see Bella again?"

"Um, I don't know..." I feel like I need to hole myself up and think things over for the next one-hundred years. How do I manage to let things get so complicated? "Maybe this weekend," I offer.

"Rose says you two kissed," he says inconspicuously.

Did she? That means Bella must have told her all about it...

I shrug indifferently. I really don't feel like divulging all the details to him at the moment. Given the circumstances in which it happened, it all feels wrong.

Not that there was anything wrong with the kiss. I've never been big on the idea, as kissing has always seemed like more of an inconvenience more than anything else, but kissing Bella was...different. Nice. Arousing.

Bella is the first girl I've ever kissed and actually _wanted _to kiss again. That thought alone scares the hell out of me.

* * *

I just love hearing what you guys think about this. The reviews have been conflicted...some of you want Bella to go all out on poor Eduardo while some others want her to take it easy and act as the adult here. Hmm...

Thanks as always to ms_ambrosia for betaing and passionmama for putting up with my paranoia. And I've had a couple people ask so, just to let everyone know, I don't know how long this story is going to be. I don't have it outlined, unfortunately...my organizational skills are pure shit...but I plan on having it go on a little after the wedding. And as to how often I update, I want to say twice a week but as of today I'm taking 14 credit hours at school plus working full time so....we'll see how it goes. But the good news is I only work 3 days a week, whoop whoop

The wonderful twifanficfreak has started a thread over on twilighted at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440. Feel free to come chat and scheme up fun things we can do to Edward ;-) I'll post teasers there when available.

I've learned a big thing about myself since starting this story....that is, I suck at responding to reviews. I try, I really really do, but time is sometimes limited and I figure you'd rather me spend it pumping out the next chapter. But I read and love each and every one - they truly make my day and sometimes make me laugh out loud - so thank you.

-mybluesky


	10. Chapter 10

I've put together a short playlist of sorts for the story...just shit I listen to while I write. Mucho inspirato music. Nothing too serious, but the link is www (dot) mixpod (dot) com/playlist/40495109 if you're interested. I'll add more as they come to me.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 10

I can't help but feel a little nervous as I make the long drive to Edward's house. I've been on edge all day just thinking about it. Yet it's not as if I'm doing anything much different from what he did...

Okay, so that's a lie. I plan to sneak into his house and help myself to his kitchen where I'll cook something that may or may not be edible. I'm usually a fairly good cook, but with my nerves I think it's all fair game at this point.

God, I'll be lucky if I don't get arrested for this.

I crank my music loud. So loud I can barely think. I'm deafened by _Talking Heads _and, while I don't feel much better, at least I'm not talking myself into a tizzy and making myself feel worse.

The drive to his house seems unnaturally short, as though it only took a minute rather than over an hour. I consult my printed mapquest directions, already resigned to the fact that I'll likely get lost and spend an extra hour finding my way again, but surprisingly the directions are dead on. I find it without one single wrong turn or doubt.

The irony is not lost on me.

I turn the stereo down once I reach his neighborhood. The houses are large, set far back from the road with perfectly manicured lawns and shrubbery. There are nice cars in the driveways, accessories to their fancy property. But what sticks out most is that the neighborhood is full of trees – some bend over the road, reaching towards the passing cars, while others protect the yards from the constantly gray haze that passes for sunshine around here.

I like the trees. They're green, bright, and friendly. They seem to wave as I pass and I instantly feel better.

Then I laugh at myself, snorting out loud. What the fuck is wrong with me? I like the _trees_?

_Get a grip, Bella. Time to put your game face on...and quit acting psycho, for crying out loud._

Edward's house is large and beautiful, just like every other home on the street. Two-stories, well-kept and clean. There are no cars in the driveway, but the numbers on the mailbox promise that this is it. I park on the side, near the closed garage, and wonder if leaving my car in plain view is a good idea. Is he close to his neighbors? Will someone call the cops on me?

Closer observation reveals there really isn't anywhere to hide it unless I park it down the street or something. And that just seems time-consuming. Shaking my head, I grab the plastic bags from my car and head to the front door, stepping over his cement steps and eyeing the welcome mat. Aside from it, you wouldn't be able to tell anyone lives here. _Sheesh_.

I don't bother knocking; instead I reach for the porch light, fumbling around the glass casing, and eventually emerge with the key Emmett told me was hidden there. So far, so good – yet my current fortune doesn't stop my heart from beating in overdrive. I take a deep breath and shove the key into the lock. The door swings open effortlessly, like a silent invitation to step inside. I accept.

The alarm beeps. I punch in the numbers Emmett provided and, to my immense relief, it shuts off. _Thank you, Jesus_.

The foyer is spacious and immaculately clean; two long, slender windows that are positioned on either side of the door allow some gray sunshine to pool onto the white tile. The tile gives way to beige carpet; I consider kicking off my shoes but eventually shrug and walk right on in, dirty shoes and all. His living room is equally pristine – not a thing is out of place. The couch looks as if it's more for decoration than actual sitting. There's indiscernible artwork on the wall, but no photographs – a stark contrast to my own home. I'm reminded of an ad in a Southern Living magazine rather than the bachelors abode I expected.

I find a staircase which I assume must lead to his bedroom. I get an itch to go explore – to see what dirty little secrets I can unveil – but I persevere and move into the kitchen. Not so surprisingly, it's spotless as well. For now, at least. The wickedness within me cackles.

I set all the bags on the counter and begin to unload my groceries. I wasn't sure what kind of food he'd have here so I brought everything I'd need. But a quick peek in his cabinets won't hurt...

They're stocked to the brim. Enough food for a family of ten. _Jesus_. And everything is organized as if at a grocery store: the sauces are together, the soups, the pasta, the flour and baking soda. He even has a large spice rack, each small slot individually labeled with names. Hmm...

Emmett's right – he _must_ be OCD. Everything is inhumanely clean and organized here. This is kind of weird – he's always seemed pretty normal when we've hung out. I slam the door shut and decide not to dwell on it.

I preheat his oven and rummage through his cabinets for cooking utensils. Fortunately, I find a roasting pan; I'd brought one of my own, just in case, but I'd much rather use and dirty up his. And why not use his spices as well? I return to the cupboard and start plucking out everything I need.

I hum to myself as I spread everything out on the counter. I need music. Abandoning my task for now, I venture back into the living room, scouring the area for a CD player. He has an enormous entertainment stand. It's a bit intimidating, but a quick peek inside reveals hundreds of CDs hidden away. I go through them and find them to be just as diverse as his iPod list, though I'm sure this is where the music on his iPod came from.

Closer inspection reveals the CDs are organized alphabetically by band and musician. I snicker as I begin plucking them from the shelf and randomly stick them in other places that are completely out of order. I stick Cat Stevens with Pink Floyd and The Velvet Revolver with Coldplay. I pull out his many Beatles CDs and stick them back here and there, no method to my madness. When I'm satisfied everything is adequately disorganized I pull out an Oasis CD and, after much poking and prodding of his CD player, pop it inside. The tune of _Wonderwall_ fills the room. That's much better.

I return to the kitchen and resume my cooking. I rub Edward's spices on the chicken, dice some potatoes and vegetables, and get my rice all ready to go. When that's completed I retrieve the ingredients needed to make Tiramisu - the messiest, tastiest desert I can think of. I start a pot of strong coffee, blend my cream, and cook my egg yolks on a double boiler. By the time I'm done dipping my ladyfingers in the coffee, the kitchen looks as if I've cooked for a family of fifty – there's coffee dribbled on the counter, spilled sugar and spices, egg shells, dirty dishes, empty milk cartons, potato peels, and celery strings strewn about. I stand in the middle of it all like the last warrior, the only survivor in a deadly cooking war.

I feel a tad bit guilty, but I quickly push the feeling aside. I just hope Edward doesn't have a stroke or something when he sees all this. And I _am_ making him a delicious dinner, after all.

With the Tiramisu in the refrigerator and the chicken in the oven, I start my rice. I start thinking about his CD collection while I'm cooking. Was that taking it a little too far? Who in their right mind does something like that? He's going to know something is up when he sees it. With a sigh, I cover my rice and make my way back to the entertainment stand to repair some of the damage. It's starting to get dark outside; I expect he'll be home soon. The thought makes me nervous.

_Please don't be angry. Please don't be angry_.

I want to shake him up a bit, sure, but if his face gets all red with a throbbing vein or something I may run out of here with my tail between my legs. Oh dear. I hope this wasn't a terrible idea. This isn't as much fun as I thought it would be – I'm just a jumble of nerves. And fuck it all if these CDs aren't impossible to find now that they're out of order. _Shit_!!

I figure I'm about halfway done when I hear the front door open. I have about six CDs in my hand as I frantically search for the C's and M's while feeling like an incompetent dumb ass. My heart jumps into my chest, but before I can react – destroy the evidence – he's walking into the living room. I'm so anxious I can't even enjoy how delicious he looks in his suit; all I can see is his blatantly puzzled expression as he says, "Bella?" He pauses at the entrance as if scared to venture closer. I'm sure I look like a deer caught in the headlights. "I _thought_ that was your car. What are you doing here?"

He doesn't look pleased or happy or mad – yet. Just...confused.

I quickly set the CDs down and throw my hands up in the air. "Surprise!" I shout with a grin. He just stares at me for a minute, dumbfounded. Holy fuck. "I wanted to surprise you the way you surprised me. I made you dinner! Wanna come see?" I move closer to stand right in front of him; I'm scared to touch him, scared that a throbbing vein is soon to come.

His brow furrows. "You cooked dinner?"

"Yes. Can't you smell it?"

"How did you get in here?" he asks, ignoring my question.

I look down at my feet sheepishly. "Um, well....Emmett sort of helped me."

"Emmett?" He seems confused for another moment; then understanding dawns and he sighs. "Emmett helped you," he repeats, though now it's more of a statement.

"Yes." I'm still staring at the floor like a child awaiting discipline.

"What are you doing with the CDs?" He gestures.

"Um, just looking at them."

"Huh."

He takes off his coat and hangs it up. He still doesn't look happy, not that I ever expected him to. But a quick peek beneath my lashes reveals him in a delicious white shirt and blue tie – suddenly, this all seems worth it. I wonder if I could sneak some pictures of him, just for something to look at when this is all over.

He stares at me as he removes his tie, his expression blank. Great mother of all that is sexy...I can't help but blatantly stare in return. His lips finally turn up in a smirk.

"See something you like?"

I blink rapidly and look away. "Um, no," I lie. His grin only widens; despite my embarrassment, I can't help but be relieved.

Then I remember the state of his kitchen.

"So, you cooked dinner, huh?" he says casually. "What is it?" He moves towards the kitchen and I turn every shade of freaked-the-fuck-out.

"Wait a second, it's not--" He enters before I can stop him and freezes, the casualties of the cooking war on full display in front of him. I gulp as I finish my sentence. "--done."

Oh, no. _Please show mercy_.

---

EPOV

Deep breaths, Cullen. _Deep. Fucking. Breaths_.

There's something cooking on the stove; the oven light is on and a dish glows from within. But I can't appreciate those things. I can't get past anything except the spilled food, empty containers and dirty dishes that command complete attention in the center of the kitchen. I can't even see the island; it's disappeared, who knows how many layers below the grime and mess.

How the fuck did this happen? A group of four-year-old kids wouldn't have created a mess this large.

Bella doesn't say anything, though I can sense her presence behind me. I close my eyes and slowly count from ten to zero in my head, willing myself to stay calm. When I open them she's in front of me, a guarded and cautious llook on her face.

"I was going to clean," she says. Her voice is small. Nervous. I sigh and run a hand over my face, through my hair, tugging some of the tension away. _It's not worth getting upset over._

"It's fine," I finally assure her, though I can't find it within me to even force a smile. I won't be able to fucking sleep tonight until this is clean. I won't be able to concentrate on _anything_ until it's clean.

I don't really have a right to get mad at her. If it wasn't for me she wouldn't be here, although a tiny little heads up from Emmett would have been nice. I didn't know what to think when I saw her car sitting in my driveway – a million scenarios ran through my head, yet each one ended with the same question: "What the fuck is going on here?"

I'm starting to wonder what I've gotten myself into. No other girl as ever been this ballsy; in fact, no other girl has ever sought Emmett's services like this. But it's strange considering I spent most the day pining over whether or not to see her again. It seems she made the decision for me.

My assertion doesn't leave her convinced.

"How much longer until the food is done?" I ask casually, and this time I think I come off as a little more at ease. She relaxes infinitesimally.

"Um, I just need to—oh shit, the rice!" She flies to the stove and rips the lid off off a pot; a cloud of steam billows around her and into the exhaust fan above the stove. I watch with mild amusement as she pokes and prods at the food while cursing under her breath. "Damn it, it's all fucking burnt," she proclaims. She moves the pot off the heat and begins searching the cabinets.

After a brief moment I ask, "Can I help you find something?"

"I need a plate or a bowl or something." I retrieve one for her and watch as she attempts to scrape the rice remains onto the dish. A thick layer has charred itself to the bottom; it smells rancid, looks even worse, and isn't coming off.

She glances at me, flustered. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she assures. I can't hide my grin.

"You mean you didn't _mean_ to burn the rice?" I ask, feigning ignorance. She rolls her eyes while fighting a smile.

"Hey, fuck off. I'm a good cook."

I raise both hands in submission. "I never said you weren't." _You're just messy as fucking hell_.

"You were thinking it." She begins scrubbing at the pot with a spoon and I inwardly cringe.

"You should probably soak that," I suggest.

She scoffs and puts it in the sink before filling it with hot water and soap. "See? I would know that except I've never burnt anything before. That sort of talent comes with being a good cook. You, obviously, know all about it." She's teasing me again; it seems she can't get enough.

I grin. "Oh, yeah? So who's cocky now?"

She gasps and turns to me. "I'm not cocky!"

"You're being the epitome of cocky."

"Only a cocky person would be so sure of that."

"So now you're pulling the cocky card on _me_ again?" I'm aghast.

"Hey, you pulled it out first."

"This time," I scoff.

"What do you mean 'this time'? I only pull it out when you're deserving. Which is usually all the time."

I grin at her. How in the world she can make me smile while standing in this disaster of a kitchen, I have no idea. I change the topic, though still remain playful. "So how's the rest of the food, Bella? Still edible?"

She glares at me. I lean against the counter and watch as she grabs two potholders and opens the oven door. "It's done," she quips. I catch a glimpse inside the oven and spot a huge, perfectly browned chicken. The smell wafts through the opening and just manages to overpower the awful rice stench.

"Here, you want me to get that?" I ask. The pan looks heavy and I worry that she'll hurt her wrist even more with the weight. She seems to be thinking the same thing and shoves the potholders into my chest.

"Be my guest."

I pull the chicken from the oven, set it atop the stove, and turn off all the appliances. It smells and looks delicious. Luckily there are potatoes and vegetables in the bottom of the roasting pan – it seems the rice wasn't really even needed.

Bella squeezes in beside me, her warm body brushing against mine, and begins poking at the chicken with a knife and fork, searching for any raw areas. Finding none, she smiles.

"All done."

I nod and pull some plates from the cabinets. I notice the filthy coffee maker with a half pot of coffee remaining; the black liquid lines the counter in dots and dribbles. Sugar granules sparkle and gleam from within the sticky mess. Did she make herself some coffee? And how on earth did she manage to create such a mess?

"Did you have some coffee?" I ask, struggling to remain casual. She looks towards the catastrophe.

"Um, I made desert," she answers uncertainly.

Is that so? It seems she really went all out.

"What did you make?"

"Tiramisu."

"Huh."

"You're supposed to refrigerate it overnight," she awkwardly explains. "But, uh, I never do. It still tastes just as good." She pulls the carving knife from its rack and hands it to me. "Want to carve the bird?"

I nod and wash my hands, then take the knife and get to work, turning my complete attention to the chicken and trying hard to ignore the mess behind me. Bella sets the table in the dining room. When I'm done I head down to the wine cellar and retrieve a bottle of Pinot Blanc. I'm still trying to make sense of the whole situation; I'm genuinely glad to see Bella, yet a nagging in the back of my mind doesn't allow me to enjoy her company. She should be in Seattle watching _Lost_ or engaging with men who don't fuck up constantly. If she knew what I'd done she'd never want to be here.

She's waiting at the table when I return and meets my gaze with a smile. My guilt increases tenfold.

"I just need to open the wine real quick," I explain. She nods; once it's open I pour us both a glass and sit down.

She's silent as we fix our plates. Once we're done she ventures to ask, "Are you mad?"

I can't help but ponder her question. Am I mad about the shit state of my kitchen? Or mad because she snuck into my house when we've known each other less than a week? I'm not sure to which she's referring – possibly both – so I play it cool.

"Mad about what?"

She sighs heavily. "I just feel like this surprise went completely wrong."

"How come?" I ask curiously.

"Well first of all, you caused me to burn the rice." That little sneak! I open my mouth to argue but she quickly cuts me off. "And second of all, you seemed kind of upset about the kitchen. Are you upset?"

"Should I be?" I hasten to ask. She eyes me from across the table.

"That's irrelevant."

"I'm not mad about the kitchen, Bella. Just...surprised."

"Oh. Well, good, because that's what I was going for." Seemingly satisfied, she takes a bite of her food and I watch as her full lips wrap around the fork. She catches me staring and smirks. "See something you like?" she asks, using my earlier words.

I smile and turn to my own food. "Actually, yes."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Oh? Care to share with the rest of the group?"

"It'd be in your best interest if I kept my thoughts to myself, Bella."

She flushes and lowers her eyes. It's strange, but I still like knowing I have this affect on her.

I take a bite of the chicken. Not surprisingly, it's just a tasty as it looks. I compliment the food; the rice really wasn't needed and I tell her so. She smiles gratefully.

"Well, thanks. Sorry I destroyed your home."

"Hey, you're cleaning it all after we eat, right?" I smile to let her know I'm joking – well, sort of. I'll help her, or do it myself, but there's no way I can leave the kitchen in that state. It's hard enough to focus on my food with its presence looming just on the other side of the wall. Sleep would be impossible.

"I'm more of an 'I cook, you clean' type of person," she replies easily.

"Is that right?" I assume she's joking, but I realize either way it doesn't matter; because either way, I'll be in there scrubbing. It's not the way I'd planned to spend my evening, but I guess it's no less than I deserve.

"Mm hmm."

There's a short pause.

"So," I begin conversationally, "you've been conspiring with Emmett."

She chokes on her food and I start, not expecting such a reaction. I'm not sure if it's mere coincidence – if she just got strangled – or if she's genuinely surprised by my words. I stand up and pat her on the back. Her face is starting to turn red.

"Are you okay?" I ask worriedly.

She nods and takes a big sip of her wine. "I'm fine," she finally stutters. "Just went down the wrong way." She wipes a few wayward tears from her eyes. When I'm satisfied she's able to breathe I sit back down. "Um, yeah," she responds. "I told him about the surprise and he gave me your address. Are you mad?" She eyes me cautiously.

"I already told you I wasn't."

"Are you mad at Emmett?"

"No. But first it's you, next it's a serial killer..."

"Next?" She looks affronted. "What do you mean 'next'?"

_Shit_. "I don't know, Bella. I was just talking," is my half-assed explanation. She gives a short "Hmpfh" and returns to her food, obviously displeased. "You know that's not what I meant," I go on.

"I don't know anything." She chews her food impassively. I can tell she's pissed off.

I shake my head but don't attempt to persuade her further. How can I? She's right; to deny it would only be disrespecting her more than I already have.

When we finish our dinner I hold my breath and brave the kitchen again. Seeing it now is no easier than seeing it the first time, though a little less shocking at least. Bella patters in behind me, completely at ease with the mess. She slaps me on the back, a trait more characteristic of Emmett, and says, "Looks like you have your work cut out for you." When I catch her gaze I see that she's grinning.

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "As long as I have you to keep me company."

"Nah, I think I might go."

"Is that right?" I raise my eyebrows. "Just eat and run, huh?"

She stretches and rubs her belly; the hem of her shirt rises up, exposing two inches of creamy skin. I stealthily peek, trying to avoid being caught again, but it's pretty apparent I have the shittiest luck in Washington. Bella gasps.

"You're quite a Peeping Tom, aren't you?" she accuses.

I scoff as I start gathering up the dirty dishes. "Like you're one to talk." I pile each dish around the sink, hoping to knock out the basics before tackling the sticky counters. It's going to take all night to clean up this mess. I shake my head, still unable to believe one person can make such a mess.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a staring problem."

"I do not!"

She follows behind me, gathering up dishes and trash, sorting them appropriately. Our banter continues as we work side by side.

"I believe you do, actually. In fact, your eyes went a little unfocused and I think you even drooled a little..."

Suddenly there's a sharp 'Pop!' and I feel a stinging pain on my leg, just below my ass. It doesn't hurt, really, but it's unpleasant and causes me to jump about a foot in the air. When I turn around I see Bella twisting the dish towel, rearing to strike again. Her face is lowered, her gaze malicious; I just manage to dodge the next attack. The towel hits nothing but air, the pop resonating across the kitchen.

"Agh! What the fuck are you doing?" I keep a good five feet of space between us. Bella laughs, her eyes bright and warm.

"What's wrong, Eduardo? Did that _hurt_?" She makes a sad face at me as though she's sympathetic, but we both know that's pure blasphemy.

"Bella, it would be in your best interest to drop the towel now," I warn, my voice low. Her grin only widens.

"Well that's too bad, _Edward_, because I hardly ever do anything that's in my best interest." She's using my words from last night. I remember them clearly.

"I can't clean while your sneaky ass has that towel, Bella. You've got five seconds."

She scoffs. "Or what?"

I ignore her. "Five." She begins twisting the towel again, her brown eyes locked on mine. "Four." More twisting. "Three." Twist, twist, twist. "Two." She pops the towel at my leg; I anticipate her attack, flip on the cold water in the sink, and immediately blast her using the spray hose. She gets a wave of icy water straight to the face and screams.

"Argh! _Damn it_!!" Rather than run she takes me by complete surprise and charges, the towel all but abandoned, and grabs my hand that's still gripping the nozzle. She tries to take the hose from me but I'm stronger; the water continues to spray on her chest, face, up in the air, the walls.

"Let go!" I holler between laughs.

"No!!"

"Bella!"

Through an unfortunate turn of events she manages to twist my hand around, causing the water to hit me in the face. Then the stove. Then the refrigerator. We wrestle back and forth, each tugging at the hose, both soaked and refusing to relent.

"Truce!" she begins screaming. "_Truce_!"

"You first!"

"No! On three!"

"One..." I begin.

"Two..." she continues.

"Three!"

She releases my hand and steps back. The water squirts for one more brief moment before I release the nozzle, then it sputters and dies. We're both sopping wet, chests heaving. Water drips from every surface in sight. All the spilled spices and sugar on the counter have effectively been eliminated. We stand in a large puddle on the floor.

Bella looks like she's just gone for a swim. Her hair is a dripping mess and her clothes cling to her body. I can see her nipples through her shirt; I immediately have a lapse in judgment and stare again, reverting back to the whole cause of this fiasco. I feel myself grow hard, straining uncomfortably against my wet slacks. Bella looks towards the point of my focus and gasps, hastily covering her chest with her arms. I at least have the decency to feel ashamed.

"Sorry," I mumble, quickly looking away.

Still breathing heavily, Bella replies, "I told you you're a Peeping Tom."

I smile – how can I not? So long as her voice box remains intact, there will never be a dull moment when snarky little Bella Swan is near.

Just to tease her, I hold up the hose, which is still in my hand but currently not spraying, as a warning. Her eyes widen upon her assessment.

"We called a truce," she reminds me forcefully.

The water is still running full force in the sink. I reach over and turn it off. "Consider that a free lesson, Bella."

"A _lesson_? You're just as wet as I am," she sates, incredulous.

A perverted comment regarding her nipples and possibly other anatomy springs hot and ready into my mind, but I force it back. I acquiescence. "True. You did flood my kitchen, as well."

"Correction: _you_ flooded your kitchen."

"You started it."

"You were making fun of me."

I raise my eyebrows, incredulous. "You called me a Peeping Tom. _Twice_."

She sighs loudly, shifting on her feet. The water moves and slurps under her weight. "Look, do you have like...a shirt I could put on or something?" She gestures towards her chest, where her arms are still tightly locked. I smirk at her.

"I think I prefer you this way."

"Edward!" She glares at me.

"Calm down, prima donna. I'll get your shirt." She shuffles aside as I move past and I can't help but smile. My kitchen has been destroyed, twice – a catastrophe within itself – but miraculously, I'm not even a tiny bit angry right now.

She watches me go, hesitating in the kitchen. "You coming?" I ask her. "There's a bathroom upstairs you can use."

"Um, yeah." She slowly follows. Halfway up the stairs she says, "Sorry about your kitchen."

"Eh – I was just thinking I didn't really need a kitchen."

She giggles; I smile.

"I hope your suit wasn't dry-clean only," she goes on.

"It is, but I suppose I'll live." We reach the top of the stairs. I enter my bedroom for the clothes, not inviting her inside nor instructing her to wait for me. It's not a huge deal either way, but I don't know what would be more appropriate and therefore I'm silent. Not surprisingly, she opts to hover in the doorway, her wide eyes carefully assessing my room from a safe distance.

I pull out sweatpants and a t-shirt from my dresser drawer. I'm in and out in less than a minute.

"The bathroom is just down the hall," I say, pointing. "There are towels in the cupboard in there." She nods and retreats with the clothes. When she's gone I disappear into my bedroom and shut the door behind me.

My erection's only grown more painful. It's pathetic how easily aroused I am – just seeing Bella in wet clothes has nearly done me in. I'd probably make a fool of myself if I ever did see her naked...not that I will. Fuck, I still don't know. Decisions need to be made. A few days away from Bella would probably do me good. It would give me time to think.

I unzip my pants, relieving some of the tension on my cock. It's not enough. What I wouldn't give for a few minutes to relieve this problem, yet there's not enough time. And how huge of a pervert would that make me? Secretly jacking off while Bella is just a few feet down the hall...

I've already decided I'm not making anymore moves on her. Not tonight, at least; not until I've had time to sort through my problems. With a sigh I quickly strip out of my clothes and, without even bothering to dry off, pull on a pair of jeans and a shirt. The fabric sticks to me uncomfortably. The discomfort is a welcome distraction.

* * *

Sorry to split this up folks, but it's already over 5K with no end in sight. As always, thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers and thanks to ms_ambrosia for her kick ass beta skills. Love you guys.

So what do you think of Eduardo's vow to be a good boy...for tonight, at least? Hmm...

Feel free to come chat, scheme, and play at the twilighted thread at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440. I post teasers when I have them.

-mybluesky


	11. Chapter 11

playlist at www (dot) mixpod (dot) com/playlist/40495109

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Eleven

BPOV

Seeing Edward dripping wet was like entering the Garden of Eden. It was...fascinating, as close to perfection as I'll ever come. He was like a shaggy, wet god, his beauty so insurmountable that touching him would bring shame. I sigh and replay the image of his white shirt clinging to his defined chest again. Talk about a wet t-shirt contest – hell, I'd pay good money for that, and my lucky ass got to ogle for free. What a wonderful night it's been.

I giggle as I quickly admire his bathroom. It must be the guest bathroom, as it's immaculately clean, not a damp towel anywhere in sight. Though I wouldn't expect much less of the master bathroom...not with Edward's suddenly apparent OCD. Lord, it's like he just hovers around here, his feet never touching the ground. There's nothing, anywhere, that's out of place.

I change quickly into Edward's clothes. They smell like him – like his laundry detergent – and I stick my nose right in the fabric and take a huge whiff. It smells so _good. _I wonder if he'd miss these clothes, and just as I'm scheming ways to steal them I catch my reflection in the mirror and grimace. I look washed out in the bright lights and my hair is a tangled mess. I thank the heavens that I don't wear makeup, because I could only imagine the humiliation of having raccoon eyes in front of Edward. I search the drawers for a hairbrush or comb and, to my intense surprise, find a used pink brush full of long, knotted brown hair.

I pick it up, glaring at it incredulously as if it were alive and could feel my palpable hostility.

So the man-whore allows his conquests to leave their nasty little grooming tools here? That's interesting – I wonder if this girl comes here often. She obviously got ready in his bathroom...and then I relax. _Guest bathroom_. Not _his _bathroom. But does that really make it any better? I throw it back in the drawer and it clangs against the other items noisily. _No_.

A knock at the door causes me to jump. "Bella, are you alright? Did you find the towels?"

I slam the drawer shut; I feel like a kid caught smuggling from a cookie jar. "Yes, I'm fine," I say, quickly raking my fingers through my tangled locks. "I'll be out in just a second."

"I'll be downstairs, okay?" he calls through the door.

"Alright."

I spend a few more seconds making myself presentable. My fingers don't work well, but I'd rather drop dead than use that hairbrush. When I'm satisfied it's not going to look any better, I turn and gather up my clothes from where they lay on the floor, a dripping, runny mess. I move to tuck my bra into the middle so Edward won't see, but then think better of it and leave it on full display atop the pile. It won't hurt to make him suffer a little more.

When I make it back downstairs Edward is already in the kitchen cleaning again. He turns as I enter and blatantly checks me out, from head to foot, in his clothes; he grins and I roll my eyes.

"You'll never learn, will you?" I ask. He shrugs, nonplussed. I hold out my dripping clothes, my black bra the focus point of the pile, and say, "What do you want me to do with these?"

He makes a face and quickly nods towards the exit. "Throw them outside."

"Edward! I will _not_!" I admonish.

"I'm just kidding, Bella. Here." He takes them from me and I watch, with amusement, as his gaze zones in on my bra. Then to my chest. Finally, my face; he swallows hard. "Um, I'm just gonna put them in the dryer."

"Okay," I say sweetly.

"Be careful walking in here," he warns. "It's slippery."

"Uh huh."

He disappears and I immediately begin cleaning up the kitchen where he left off. I suddenly realize, with a new-found clarity, just how powerful I am. I just saw Edward Cullen at his damn near sexiest – wet and panting – and I resisted that shit. I must be secondary only to Jesus when it comes to self-control. _I can motherfucking do this._

He's gone several minutes; I begin to worry for my bra, but before I can dwell he returns with several neatly folded towels. He lays two across the counter and begins wiping, pushing everything into the floor. I watch with amusement, lips pursed and arms crossed. Edward sees my stance and raises his eyebrows.

"What?"

I quickly shrug, nonchalant. "Nothing. Is that the way you always clean?" I ask skeptically. The water that doesn't absorb into the towel is brushed off the counter; it hits the floor with a faint splash, followed quickly by broken egg shells and potato peels. Edward smiles lightly and shrugs.

"I've never had such a large task before – I feel this may need some improvising."

He is being annoyingly nonchalant about the whole kitchen ordeal. He's struggling, that much is certain – but why hasn't he yelled or gotten angry? Is this still part of his ruse to get into my panties? It must be.

"Yeah, well. It's mostly your fault."

He cocks and eyebrow but remains wisely silent, absorbed in his task.

The CD has long since stopped playing. Aside from the slosh of water beneath our feet, it's unnaturally quiet. I venture around the isle. "Mind if I put on some more music?"

Edward looks up at me, incredulous. "Now you're asking?" he blurts. I'm taken aback as he quickly gives a half-smile; he's attempting to pass off his little outburst as part of our banter, but I'm no fool. Perhaps the CD thing _was_ going a little too far. Oh, wait – he hasn't even seen what I've done to his collection yet. I gulp and scurry out of the kitchen despite his obvious displeasure of me messing with his stuff. Besides, I think we're beyond that minor informality at this point.

His entertainment stand is still partially open, several CDs still stacked atop each other in front of the now unorganized pile. I quickly pop a random Beatles CD inside and search uselessly for the Oasis case. It's nowhere to be found; I eventually pop it into the empty Beatles case and close the door, hiding the evidence.

When I turn around I find Edward leaning against the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, watching me. I jump, startled, and place a hand over my racing heart.

Edward gestures towards the entertainment stand. "I saw you did a number to my CD collection as well."

I glance nervously behind me, then quickly compose myself and step forward, bypassing Edward. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say confidently. Once in the kitchen I yell, "There's still a lot of cleaning to do. If you want my help you'll get busy."

I cringe a little; I sound like a complete bitch, having destroyed his kitchen and insist he help clean or else he'll be tackling the job alone. It's not in my nature; I clean up my own messes, I pay back borrowed money and I ask for permission before touching things. I don't sneak into near-stranger's homes while they're away with evil schemes and plots. I'm a _nice_ person. Yet here's Edward, causing me to go against every grain of my being by making a shallow, stupid bet on me.

Edward follows me into the kitchen and we settle into an easy conversation while we clean.

"So how was your day?" I ask casually. He shoots me a look.

"Long."

Right, he's implying that it's long because of me. Well, my day wasn't any shorter, jackass. I had to work, cook _and_ clean.

"Mine, too," I say. "But I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine, Bella," he says without looking at me.

I decide upon a new tactic: innocence. Rose's favorite when she's trying to get something she wants or have someone see her way – well, unless that someone is me. In that case she just puts her foot down and, with an icy glare lethal enough to freeze hell, tells me how it's going to be.

"I enjoyed seeing you today, Edward," I tell him softly. "I've had a lot of fun."

The water fight actually was fun – albeit cold and embarrassing – but I'm not so sure he agrees. Although he _did_ technically initiate it. But popping his ass with a towel was loads of fun – I'd like to do that again soon. I grin despite myself.

"Sure, Bella, destroying my kitchen was _tons_ of fun," he replies with a smirk.

"Don't be a prude," I quickly retort. "What else would you have done?"

"I'd probably be sitting on my couch relaxing."

I cough into my hand. "Boring." But hell, I'd probably be doing the same thing. I can't judge the guy.

"Or maybe I'd relax in the hot tub," he goes on. My eyes suddenly pop up to his, my interest piqued. _Hot tub_?

"You have a hot tub?" I ask. He smirks at my eagerness.

"Maybe."

"Well, where is it?"

"Out back."

No fucking way. What a perfect excuse to get Edward hot, nearly naked, and wet – all for my visual enjoyment, of course. But just as soon as the image pops into my head my rationale is jumping up and down, warning flags going berserk, screaming, "Abort fantasy! _Abort_!"

I don't even have a bathing suit. Damn it, why didn't I anticipate something like this? But my underwear _does_ cover up just as much, albeit less tastefully...

My rationale is glaring at me in shame. I should really listen to her but damn, she never lets me have any fun. If I had listened to her tonight I'd be watching _Lost_ for the umpteenth time on my sofa, just me and a date with Ben & Jerry. Which actually doesn't sound so bad...but seeing Edward in a hot tub sounds better. Much, much better.

My inner vixen blurts out shamelessly before I can stop her. "Want to get in tonight?"

Holy shit. Voicing it aloud really brings to light just how stupid of an idea this is. If he tries something funny I'll have nowhere to go expect streaking through his house, nearly naked.

He looks at me a moment as if carefully calculating his decision. "You don't have a bathing suit," he finally states.

He's right, of course; a part of me cheers in triumph, relieved, while another part dies a little on the inside. I don't argue.

"Yeah, that's true," I grumble. "Maybe this weekend or something?"

I've just inadvertently invited myself back to his home this weekend. That's not good – not good at all. But before I can take it back, Edward concedes. "Maybe."

Maybe? Just _maybe_? What's going on with him? It's like he's gone from a desperate, horny guy trying to win a bet to someone who's indifferent either way. It doesn't make sense. Has he called off the bet? Did something I say last night actually get to him? A girl can only hope.

All the spices have been gathered together on the counter. Just to test him, I pick them up and carry them to the cupboard where I haphazardly throw them in the slots. I don't bother checking names and don't put a single spice where it actually goes; I'm very obvious in my behavior, wondering if Edward will notice.

It only takes him about ten seconds before he's at my back, so close I can feel his body heat. He's peering over my shoulder at my progress.

"Those are supposed to go in certain slots," he informs me. I look up at him innocently.

"But the names are on the lids," I lightly argue.

"But the names are also on the rack," he counters, pointing them out to me. "They're organized so they're easy to find."

"Well that's dumb," I say. "I'd want to organize my own spices the way I want them."

"Yes, but _I_ like it this way," he says, and the next thing I know he's gently pushing me out of the way. "Here, I'll do this."

I roll my eyes but retreat. I head to the sink and rinse the last of the dishes before cramming them inside his dishwasher. I still don't know what to think – he's obviously not pleased yet doesn't seem to be mad. And he's not making any sneaky moves. He's just so...calm. Impassive. Infuriatingly indifferent. _What are you thinking, Edward Cullen_?

The kitchen is nearly clean. The dishwasher is loaded, the trash is gone and the counters are shining and sleek. The only thing left is the floor; I throw towels down and began mopping it up while Edward finishes reorganizing his beloved spice rack. When he's done he pulls a bottle of Pin-Sol from underneath the sink and begins mixing up a cleaning mixture in a bowl. We sweep, clean, and mop up the floor in silence.

As I'm walking past him I step in a soapy area and slip; he reaches out to catch me and I grab a fistful of his shirt, nearly bringing him down with me, stretching the fabric in the process. Edward helps right us both with a low chuckle.

"You're just a recipe for disaster, huh, Swan?"

His face is just inches from mine, his hand still grasping my arm tightly. The close proximity is unnerving, as always, and I find my vision zoning in on his lips. I quickly refocus and push him away with a scowl.

"It seems you bring out the worst in me," I mutter. Edward cups a hand over his ear.

"What's that? Did you say I bring out the best in you?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Eduardo." He chuckles.

I initiated the kiss last night. Granted, I cockblocked him twice, but that's a mere technicality. If he wants to lay me so fucking badly then why isn't he trying to kiss me again? Am I _that_ horrible of a kisser? Surely not...

The kitchen is nearly spotless. I can't believe I helped him clean the whole damn thing – if this idea didn't backfire then I don't know what the hell it did. All I did is make a huge mess for myself; Edward took it far better than I'd hoped and we spent a good hour cleaning. Damn it.

The dishwasher is loaded and running. With a large sigh Edward pulls the trash bag from the can and ties it into a tight knot. The bag is only a little over half full.

"I'm gonna take this out," he informs me, and without waiting for a response, he carries it out the door, barefoot. I find myself leaning over to watch him go. _Mmm...delicious._

I can't find anything else to clean. The entire kitchen reeks of Pine-Sol and soap; fearing a chemical high, I quickly grab the Tiramisu from the refrigerator and carry it to the living room, two spoons in hand. Edward probably won't like this - not that I care. I settle on the sofa, tuck my legs beneath my body, and wait with the Tiramisu in my lap. A few seconds later I hear Edward re-enter the kitchen.

"Bella?" he calls.

"In here."

He enters the living room to find me perched on the couch, Tiramisu ready and waiting. "Oh, decided we're eating in here, huh? Moving on to destroy the next room?" he teases. Or at least I think he's joking; either way, I roll my eyes.

"Do you ever just annoy yourself sometimes?" I ask snidely.

He smirks. "So now I annoy you?"

"Frequently."

"Yet, for some reason you just can't seem to stay away."

I gasp, my eyes widening. That little _fucker_. If he only knew. I'll make him regret the day he ever looked in my direction for that little comment.

He sits beside me on the couch and I scoot away, still pissed off and scowling. His grin only widens.

"You mad at me now?" he coaxes.

"Yes," I retort sullenly. "And just so you know, you're not _that_ irresistible." Lies, all lies. If it weren't for this bet I'd be all over him in a nanosecond.

"So you think I'm a _little_ irresistible?" he questions, still smiling.

"No," is my brilliant response.

"That's not what you said."

I ignore him and open my container of Tiramisu. Without offering him his spoon I swipe a huge bite and moan loudly. "Mmm, this is good," I say, mouth full. He probably thinks I'm a pig but I don't care. He eyes me shrewdly as I take another bite.

"You gonna eat the whole thing by yourself?" he asks, clearly amused. It's a huge container, enough for two Emmetts, at least.

"Maybe." I take another bite.

"Hmm." Edward doesn't argue; he watches me closely, a half-smile on his lips. His green eyes are penetrating.

"Why, Edward?" I ponder. "Did you want some?" I scoop some up and hold the spoon out to give him a bite. He looks at it a moment before his emerald greens flicker back to mine; when he finally opens his mouth I move in, pretending to relinquish the bite, but suddenly change direction and pop the spoon back into my own mouth. Edward's eyes widen in surprise whilst I laugh obnoxiously around a mouth full of ladyfingers and cream.

"You think that's funny, huh?" he asks, his voice low, and before I can react, the container of Tiramisu is suddenly snatched from my lap.

"Hey!"

He just as easily takes the spoon from my hand – I really need to step up my game – and in a fit of surprise and desperation I practically crawl on top of him trying to get it back. He's leaning over the armrest to get away from me and still manages to take a disgustingly huge bite. He gets cream on his lips and I can't stifle my snicker.

"You've got cream on your face," I say, very naughty-like.

"Yeah, bet you wanna come lick it off my irresistible mouth, huh?" he taunts. _Hell no he didn't just fucking say that! _He's still keeping the container out of my reach, cocky smirk in full-blown effect.

"Don't make me unleash the Kung Fu," I warn. He laughs loudly before sneaking another huge, awkward bite; I watch him like a horny little hawk, fully conscious of how hard and good his body feels beneath mine. So maybe I'm pretending to want the Tiramisu back a little more than I actually do...is that a crime?

"What's this, Bella?" Edward asks in a mocking voice. "Want some Tiramisu? Here comes the choo-choo..." He flies the spoon at me like a plane and I smack it away.

"You're such a prick." Mission feel-up-Edward's-tight-bod complete. I sit back down on my end of the couch and pretend to sulk.

"Come on, Bella. Don't be sad...I saved some for you." Edward scoots in closer and points to his left cheek, the area near his mouth now covered in cream. He sets the container on the coffee table, giving me the perfect opportunity to snatch it up, but Vixen Swan makes a sudden, surprise appearance – she grabs Edward's face in her hands, turns it for her liking, and licks the cream right off his goddamn sexy face. I think our eyes widen simultaneously.

_Holy crap_! Did I seriously just do that?

No point in bitching out now...I close my eyes and moan, savoring the flavor. I gotta admit, it's even better with a hint of Edward. When I open my eyes, he's staring at me curiously, his face still in my hands. His green eyes are big, questioning emeralds.

I don't know what to do myself – in a perfect world I'd simply melt into the couch cushions and disappear. It wouldn't even matter that I'd just done this ridiculous, oh-so-delicious thing, because I'd conveniently cease to exist right about now.

Perhaps I could start by releasing his face...yeah, good thinking, Swan. I'm sure the rest will come to you as you go along. Baby steps is all I ask for.

Edward is wearing his signature smirk again. "How was it?" he asks.

I quirk an eyebrow but play along. "A little presumptuous for my liking."

For some reason I still haven't released his goddamn face.

"Is that right? 'Cause you really seemed to enjoy it..."

_Shut up, Cullen_. Without warning I lean in and silence him with my lips. I close my eyes; I don't think, I just feel and enjoy, because damn it, I can. I can kiss pretty boys if I want to. I even got the blessing of Rosalie fucking Hale, which is saying a lot. And I _did_ tell Emmett there would be tonsil hockey...and Bella Swan never tells a lie. Well, unless it works out in her favor, of course.

Edward tenses for a second, but before I can dwell on his reaction he's responding eagerly, his eyes fluttering closed as he kisses harder, more persistent, against me. His tongue slips into my mouth and he tastes of Tiramisu - warm and sweet and heavenly. My hand moves from his face to his hair, knotting in his bronze locks, whilst his finds a firm residence on my hip, the other sneaking around my back as he pulls me even closer.

Every fiber of my being is clinging to this moment, absorbed in his taste and smell; I'd imagined kissing him again, countless times, since our quick lip-lock outside of my apartment, yet it just doesn't live up to the real thing.

Before I really know what's happening he's gently pushing me back, our lips only parting for the briefest of moments. He hovers above me, a knee between my legs. His lips leave mine to travel from my chin, across my jaw, down my neck, each nip and suck so gentle and spot-on that it sends shivers down my spine. And my hands – well, they absolutely refuse to leave his gorgeous hair.

As his lips travel south, his hands follow; they move from my neck, ghosting over the fabric of his t-shirt. He rests on his elbow, using one hand to tug the neck of my shirt down to expose more skin; every place he kisses seems to burn. His other hand lingers at the hem of my shirt, flirting with the options – making a decision – until finally it disappears from sight, rubbing the skin of my side and belly.

It doesn't take long for me to register that I'm not wearing a bra; it's even less time before Edward's hand is softly stroking the side of my breast, teasing with his knuckles, then his fingers. Each touch makes it that much harder to think, yet I _must_ remain focused – I _must_ know when enough is enough.

My hands travel across his back, feeling his muscles and arms. I want his shirt off, now. With an awkward tug I pull it up his back and he chuckles before reaching one hand around and snatching it completely off. Much better. I run my hands across his bare skin; he's smooth and hard and warm.

His lips soon find mine again. I shift on the couch, lifting my hips to find a more comfortable position, and in doing so lightly press against his groin; he groans into my mouth even at the slight contact, the sound sending a strange tingle straight to my belly.

His hand is up my shirt again. His wrist pushes the material up, causing it to bunch, and I yearn for skin to skin contact. But is that really a good idea? I have some modesty, after all, and revealing my bare chest to some man who only wants me for one thing doesn't seem like the most brilliant of options. But _God_, to have him touch me...

His smooth thumb runs across the lower swell of my breast and all rational thought flies out the window. My hands travel his chest, feeling and exploring, as he gently bites my earlobe. I moan, and when he tugs my shirt up over my breasts I find myself sitting up, allowing him to remove it completely.

Without my shirt I feel vulnerable and exposed; I get an overwhelming urge to wrap my arms across my chest, hiding myself, but before I can act or think Edward is whispering, "You're so beautiful."

I blush; I don't know if he says that to every girl, but it undoubtedly puts the same warm tingle in my belly as hearing him moan. Dipping low, he kisses right between my breasts, sucking softly, before turning his attention to one breast and then the other. He takes each nipple into his mouth and sucks softly, teasingly, before nipping at the underside of my breast. My chest is heaving against him as I take huge, uneven breaths.

His lips travel south again, to my belly-button, to the hem of my sweatpants. When he loops one finger into the hem I grow nervous – this is starting to go too far. With a shaky breath I call his name. "Edward?"

Both eyebrows raise as he peers up at me. "Yes, Bella?"

I'd never both wanted and not-wanted something so badly before.

I don't know what to say to him; I want to kiss him again, yet I don't want him in my pants. He's too in-control of this situation. "Come here," I breathe, tugging his hair gently, and he clambers back up my body until our lips meet again.

I'm not wildly experienced in the sex department, but I do know that if we continue this little romp then I need to be in control. With some awkward pushing and shifting he's on his back on the couch, me on top. The excitement doesn't leave me – the adrenaline still pumps hot and heavy through my system – but my nerves calm just the slightest bit. If I could tie him up, allowing me to enjoy this while he's immobile, unable to take advantage of the situation, I certainly would.

I do the same as he did for me, trailing kisses across his jaw and down his neck, tasting him. He's got a slight bit of stubble which is simultaneously scratchy and pleasurable. My hands explore every inch they can find while he grabs my hips, holding me against him. He pushes me against his hard erection and groans; my stomach tingles again.

I make my way up his body in much the same fashion, kissing and sucking, nipping and biting, hoping I'm doing half a good a job as he did. When I kiss his lips I feel his hands slide underneath my sweatpants, right over my bare ass, as he pulls me even harder against him. We both groan together, the sound muffled in each other.

When his hips begin moving against mine, I know it's time to stop. I can put my feet into the water but I'm not equipped to jump all the way in – the end result would leave me cold and empty for the ride home. I'd be left used, alone and disappointed.

I pull away and look at Edward – his eyes are scorching, dark with desire. The sight makes it that much harder to reach behind me and gently tug his arm; he quickly pulls both hands out of my pants.

He's not going to like what I have to say. _I_ don't like what I have to say.

"I think we should stop." I'm breathless, mentally building up my defenses as I await his argument.

His green eyes search mine as he rubs his thumb across my cheek, pushing my sloppy, hanging hair away. I'm surprised when he quickly nods. "Okay," he breathes.

He leans forward and kisses me again, softly, on the lips. My eyes flutter closed at the contact.

I find myself astounded. Just a simple...okay? No arguments? No persistence?

Slowly we sit up, straighten ourselves out, and put our shirts back on. I wish I could think of a logical excuse for him to leave his off, but it's no matter – a quick peek at the digital clock on his stereo reveals it's getting late. I have a long drive back to Seattle and have to work in the morning.

Things feel awkward as we sit beside each other on the couch. He's now seen me half-naked, yet that doesn't seem like such an awful thing as it did before. But it's still wrong. The only good in this is that we'll be able to make out some more when we're both in hell.

I look at my hands, suddenly feeling shy. "I should probably go," I say quietly.

Edward sighs. "It's late. Are you sure you should drive all that way?"

"It won't be a problem. I'm not tired."

He nods, running a hand through his chaotic hair. "Okay."

Just out of curiosity I ask, "You still coming to Seattle this weekend?"

He smiles lightly, yet it doesn't reach his eyes. How strange...

"That's the plan," he responds.

He retrieves my clothes from the laundry room – as much as I want to wear his comfy sweats home, inhaling their delicious scent the whole way, I begrudgingly trek back up the stairs and change in the bathroom. My clothes are now dry and warm but not nearly as comfortable.

I leave him my Tiramisu – I've made the desert more times than I can count – and he acts as quite the gentleman by walking me out to my car. We linger there a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. He has both hands crammed in his pockets while mine are crossed firmly against my chest.

I think again of apologizing about the kitchen – about sneaking into his house – but that's just the nice trying to come out of me again. It goes against my plan and what I'm trying to do; I remain silent. I become strangely fascinated in the pavement of his driveway beneath my feet.

"Thanks for cooking us dinner," Edward finally says. "It was quite a...surprise." I know he's putting this lightly and I can't help but smile.

"No problem," I respond. "If you enjoyed it that much I should do it again sometime."

He grins. "Maybe next time it should be at _your_ place."

"But your kitchen is so much nicer," I whine, and he chuckles.

"Drive safely, Bella."

"I will."

"Will you text me or something when you get home?"

I quirk an eyebrow. "Why?"

"So I know you made it home safe," he says, as though it should be obvious. "It's late."

I can't help but wonder if he's this way with all his casual conquests. The way Emmett spoke, he rarely remembers to get a full name. But I'm not technically a conquest...nor will I ever be.

"Sure, Edward," I say with a smile. "Goodnight." I wonder if he's gonna kiss me goodbye. I absolutely refuse to initiate it _again_. That would be the third time – three to zero, a ratio that doesn't sit well with me.

He opens the car door and I slide inside, masking my disappointment behind a tight smile. _Why won't he kiss me_? And then it dawns on me...of course. It's not like we're going to have sex right here in the driveway, so what's the point? He doesn't care about kissing. He doesn't care about _me_.

This realization puts a new kind of sensation in my belly...an unpleasant one. I avoid looking at him, scared that my features will give too much away.

Then, with the door still open, he leans down and kisses my forehead softly. "Goodnight, Bella," he whispers, and he moves to kiss my lips once, twice, and a third time - quick, chaste kisses with no tongue, yet perfect for that very reason. I'm grinning as he pulls away and he smiles at my reaction before quietly closing the door. I give a little wave through the tinted windows, unsure if he can see me, and slowly pull out of his driveway.

I spend the ride home lost in thought, too absorbed to even turn up the radio. I'm already looking forward to his visit this weekend, and I know it's wrong. It's wrong, but I no longer care. I'm living in the moment, something I was always taught to do; I'll kiss a pretty boy now and think about the repercussions later.

* * *

Don't worry ladies, I'll get Eduardo in a hot tub even if it's with my dying breath. This is another 5k+ chapter, just cause that's how much I love you guys.

Thanks to ms_ambrosia for betaing and all the Tinis for keeping me sane and giving me very wicked and oh-so-fun suggestions. And as always, thanks to my readers, reviewers, favoriters...you get the idea...and to those who are rec'ing this story. Love ya bunches, muah!

I love hearing what you think. Also, the twilighted thread is at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440 if you want to come play.

-mybluesky


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Twelve

BPOV

All I want to do is relax in the tub, yet as soon as I finally submerge my exhausted body there's a loud pounding at the door. I tense; who the fuck could that be? I'm not expecting anyone and I specifically told Rose I have a date with Johnny Showerhead tonight. Yet the pounding continues and I find myself rising into the chilly air, thoroughly disgruntled as I wrap myself in my robe and make a quick beeline for the door.

I'm all geared up, ready to let Rose have it, but after flinging the door open I suddenly find myself standing face-to-face with a soaking wet, gloriously sexy Edward Cullen.

I gasp, subconsciously pulling my robe tighter against my body. "What are you doing here?" My voice is accusing.

Edward grins slyly and I'm finding it difficult to look affronted whilst standing in such close proximity to sex-on-legs over here. "I came to see you," he says. "And look, I brought dinner." He holds up a container of chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne.

"Dinner?" I scoff, attempting to withhold my facade, yet in reality my ovaries are rejoicing at the sight. He steps inside uninvited, dripping water all over my floor. His shirt is white and see-through – I ogle quite freely. "Did you swim here?" I ask sarcastically.

"Swim, run – whatever it takes to get to you," he says smoothly. When I cock an eyebrow he turns serious. "It was raining, Bella."

I don't remember it raining, but whatever. I close the door behind him - when I turn around he's eyeing me in my robe.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asks.

"Yes, I was taking a bath."

"Well please, don't let me stop you."

The nerve of him! So ballsy all of a sudden. And as cocky as ever, of course.

"Don't hold your breath, Cullen," I say with a scowl. I patter back towards my bathroom where my pajamas lay folded and waiting. I assume he's waiting for me in the living room, but when I move to shut the bathroom door it's quickly blocked by a strong hand. I start, not having known he was following me. "Shit! What are you doing?" I ask, aghast.

"I'm joining you," he says easily. The door shuts with a low 'click' and suddenly I'm trapped inside the tiny space. Edward's eyes are dark and inviting. I lose myself in them before shaking my head and stepping away.

"I don't think so."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella. You want this just as much as I do." He's very matter-of-fact.

"You don't know what I want..."

But obviously he does, because a second later I'm being pushed against the counter, his hard, wet body pressed into mine. I have nowhere to go, not that I'd ever want to leave. He's right - I want this.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers. His voice is low, enthralling – I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck as he leans in close. Carefully, he touches my neck with his fingertips, slowly pushing aside the collar of my robe. I gasp as one side of fabric slides down my shoulder. He kisses the exposed skin, biting softly. I lose focus.

"I...I..."

"Say it, Bella." His hands fall south, deftly untying my robe. In a flash he rips it open and I'm exposed, completely naked in front of him. His eyes assess me slowly, dark and longing. Amazingly, I'm not ashamed for him to see me this way. I'm aroused, sexy and confident; I'm quick to meet his hungry gaze.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says in awe. "Now tell me what you want."

His look alone has left me breathless.

"You," I whisper.

"How do you want me?"

I find no shame in my answer. "I want you inside of me."

"Show me, Bella."

I push him away, giving me room to drop to my knees before him - a few quick fumbles with his belt later and I'm peeling his zipper apart, sliding his wet pants down his legs and to his ankles. His soaked boxers can't contain the bulging erection tucked beneath. With one swift movement I tug his underwear down and his erection springs free.

He's hard and hot before me, yet I don't take long to marvel at the beauty before taking him in my mouth. He gasps, then groans and closes his eyes, his hands fisting in my hair as I suck every delicious inch.

"Fuck, Bella," he moans. "That feels so fucking good."

I'm elated to make him feel this way, not to mention painfully aroused. Before I know what's happening he's yanking me to my feet, his lips capturing mine for a rough and passionate kiss. When we break free his eyes are blazing into mine.

"How do you want me?" he asks again, his voice low and dangerous. I groan.

"Inside of me. Now."

"Turn around," he demands, and I'm eager to comply. Once I'm facing the mirror he quickly peels me out of the robe, leaving me completely naked. I watch him carefully through the glass. His large hand grasps my shoulder, pushing me forward over the counter. "Bend over." His voice is husky; I do as I'm told, and in one quick motion he's inside of me, filling me completely. It's even better than I'd imagined and causes me to cry out loudly. He's still pressing me down, my body forced against the counter as he dominates me. I've never experienced anything so fucking hot before. His gaze is cocky again as his eyes meet mine through the mirror.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, his voice husky. He suddenly grabs my hair, pulling me up from the counter and causing me to arch my back – as a result he hits even deeper, and in a sea of sensation, I can barely see, can barely focus on anything besides the way I feel.

It doesn't take me long before I'm exploding around him, falling to pieces, crying out shamelessly. He's still pumping in and out relentlessly as we hear my loud ass alarm sound from my bedroom. _What the fuck?_ It's probably eight o'clock at night. Why in the world is it going off _now_?

The blaring grows louder and louder. Edward looks at me through the mirror. "Are you going to turn that off?"

But he's not letting me move. Blindly, I throw my hand out, knocking over bottles on the counter until my rather large, metal bottle of hairspray hits the floor with a clang...

My eyes snap open, though I hadn't realized they were closed. Everything's dark; it takes me a few moments to adjust before I realize I'm in my bedroom, in my bed. The alarm is relentless, its screams filling the otherwise quiet interior.

With a heaving chest I shut it off. All my shit has been knocked to the floor, including my lamp. Everything is suddenly, eerily quiet. A small amount of moonlight pours in through the sheer curtains of my window, but otherwise it's dark.

I'm panting heavily, as if I've just run a marathon...or had amazing bathroom sex. Holy shit, is it possible to orgasm in your sleep? I would've never thought it could happen, and yet, here I am, coming down from the best orgasm I've had in who knows how long. All thanks to motherfucking Edward Cullen, who wasn't even in the room. I didn't even touch myself...shit, I need to document this in my diary or something. But I don't keep a diary!

It seems now would be an excellent night to start.

---

"Oh my God...you slept with him!"

I choke on my salad. It takes me a minute to recover. "What? No I didn't," I eventually sputter.

Rose tsks into the phone. "Don't lie to me. I can always tell this kind of shit."

"Rose, I swear on a thousand Virgin Marys, I did not have sex last night." Not _technically_.

"Then why do you have a post-coital voice thing going on?"

"A what?" I'm confused...and slightly mortified...and extremely amazed. Christ, Rose is like Yoda or something with this freakish new knowledge.

"You sound like you had sex," she elaborates.

"How can someone _sound_ like they've had sex?"

"Look, I can just sense these things – it's not something you can teach. So, did you or didn't you?" Her question is accusing.

"Rose! No!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Rose. I think I'd remember something like that," I answer, exasperated.

"You swear?"

"Rose!"

"Alright, alright. I'll take your word for it, _I guess_," she says begrudgingly. "Though you sure sound awfully fishy. So what did you kids do last night?"

"We just hung out. I made dinner," I hedge.

"Uh huh. Did you destroy his kitchen like we planned?"

"Umm...yeah."

"Before or after you had sex?"

"Goddamn it, Rose--"

"Relax, relax. It was just a joke." No it wasn't, I can tell. Damn her. "So then what happened?" She's fishing for information. My salad, nearly untouched, is perched on one end of my desk so as to be out of the way. We were slow yesterday, yet the work still managed to pile up after I dipped out two hours early. As a result, I'm eating lunch at my desk, playing catch-up. Rose called me four times in a row before I finally gave in and answered.

"We got into a water fight."

She's confused. "A water fight?"

"Yeah – with the sink hose."

"How the fuck did that happen?"

"I popped his ass with a towel."

She laughs hysterically in the background. I turn to my papers with a small smile, yet it's no use – I've never been a good multi-tasker.

"Well shit, Bella. You always manage to turn it up a notch, huh? But what did he do when he saw the kitchen? You did destroy it, right?"

I feel so evil discussing these things with Rose, yet it's so much fun that I hardly care.

"He was actually fucking _calm_ about it," I say, aghast. I'm using my inside voice, careful to keep my conversation hidden from my coworkers. "I mean, I could tell it bothered him, but he never got angry or anything." I conveniently omit how I found this both relieving and frustrating.

"Really? Well it was all an act, I'm sure," she says matter-of-fact.

"I guess."

"The whole point of this is to piss him off a bit and make him regret what he's doing," she reminds me. "So if he looked like it bothered him then it was a success. Did you leave and make him clean it all himself?" she asks eagerly. I hesitate, almost afraid to reveal the answer.

"I um...I kind of helped him clean." My voice is small. I'm hoping she won't hear me – I'm hoping she'll have a sudden attack of amnesia and forget the whole damn thing.

Then a short, strained pause follows and I know that my hope is in vain.

"What do you mean you helped him clean?" She forms the words carefully, uncertain.

I sigh and begin shuffling through papers in a useless attempt to distract myself and, hopefully, block out some of her response.

"You know what it means," I begrudgingly reply.

She huffs loudly and snaps, "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, Rose. I. Don't. Know."

"You can keep the attitude, Bella. You're just being pissy because you were stupid last night." Her mood did a complete one-eighty, which doesn't surprise me. And I've yet to tell her about our little romp on the couch...something I'm now certain I'll never, ever admit to her, not even with my dying breath.

"In case you've forgotten, Rose, I have goals here. Such as getting him to go to the wedding with me. I'm not trying to scare him the fuck away." My voice is a hushed whisper to conceal my conversation from passing coworkers. This is revealing more jacked up information about myself than they ever need to know.

"He's not gonna run. He's trying to win a bet," she reminds me.

"We don't even know what he bet for. If it's money or something stupid then he might just say 'fuck it' and move on."

"From what Em's said, he's pretty wealthy. You really think it's money?"

"I don't know. I have no clue."

"Why would someone who's fucking rich make a sleazy bet for money? That just doesn't make sense," she goes on.

"Unless the person is sleazy," I supply.

"Do you think he is?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe a little..."

"Emmett doesn't think it's for money."

"Well what does the all-knowing Emmett think the wager is?" I ask sarcastically. Rose in undeterred by my attitude.

"He doesn't know. He's just as stumped as we are."

"Well thanks for nothing."

"You know, it wouldn't have killed Jacob to follow them out into the hallway," she muses.

"I know! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him?"

"Men," she snorts. I concur.

"Who are we kidding, anyway?" I ask, exasperated. "It's not like Emmett is the all-knowing motherfucking Confucius. It _could_ be about something stupid like money."

Rose laughs loudly and then quickly clears her throat. "Sorry, I just thought of Em being Confucius," she admits. "It was pretty fucking hilarious."

I giggle too, despite myself. "Yeah, it is."

In a very serious voice Rose says, "Emmett say, if girlfriend start smoking, use lubricant."

I nearly howl with laughter, causing several people to turn and look at me. Damn, I can't talk about this here, even if it is my lunchtime.

Laughing, Rose prepares to tell another. "Emmett say--"

"No, Rose!" I giggle. "I'm still at work."

"Why are you at work?"

"I'm behind so I'm eating lunch here."

"Oh," is her simple response. She moves on. "So, besides clean, what did you guys do last night?"

"Nothing," I say innocently. I guess it's _too _innocently, because she doesn't buy it for a second.

"Tell me. Now." _Crap_.

"Rose, I'm at work," I whisper urgently.

She gasps. "You _did _sleep with him!"

"No!!"

"Then what is it?"

"It was nothing, really. I'll tell you later."

"Oh _please_. If it's nothing then you can tell me now."

"I actually need to go..."

"Nuh uh. Spill. Now." _So demanding!_

"It's nothing!"

"Bella..." Her tone is warning.

"Okay, I can't talk about it here. I have to go. I'll tell you about it later. Bye." Without giving her a chance to respond I hang up, make sure the phone is on vibrate, and chunk it in my drawer. A few minutes later I completely shame myself by pulling it out and checking for any missed texts. None.

Why am I so eager to hear from him? I keep telling myself it's because I'm bored, but that's obviously not true – I'm working my ass off over here. Even if he did call I doubt I'd have time to chat.

Perhaps it's the mind-blowing dreamgasm he gave me last night – yeah, that seems more reasonable. That orgasm was more intense than anything I've ever had in real life, which is a little sad. And also frightening. Yearning for Edward due to an unbelievable dreamgasm is a very, very bad thing.

With a resigned sigh I shut my phone off, eliminating all temptation. I need to come down fully from my dreamgasm high before I see or speak to him again. I reluctantly bury my phone deep in my purse, where it remains for the rest of the day.

---

EPOV

After Bella went home last night I jacked off. _Twice_. Then again this morning.

Jesus Christ.

I let things get a bit out of hand last night. I can admit that; I promised myself we wouldn't do anything, yet logic has a tendency to fly out the window when a girl like Bella is licking your lips and moaning into your mouth. If she hadn't stopped me, I probably would've taken her right there, over the couch. My dick was aching for it; it would've been easy. The bet would be over – life would return to normal, for the most part. In fact, things would probably be even better.

But she stopped me.

After I return from my second meeting my assistant delivers a message. "You had a call while you were gone, Mr. Cullen. A Mr. James Smith. He said it was urgent and for you to call him back as soon as you could." She gives me his number.

_What the fuck?_

"Thank you, Jane." She nods and disappears.

What the hell could he possibly want? Most likely checking in, determining my progress – seeing if I've given up yet. I shake my head and ignore the message - I doubt anything he has to say is urgent. I'm just not in the mood to talk to him right now.

But a few minutes later Jane rings through the intercom.

"Yes, Jane?"

"Mr. Cullen, it's James Smith again. Would you like for me to send him through?"

I sigh. "Go ahead." _Might as well get this over with_. I answer quickly. "Edward Cullen." My voice is quipped and short, as it often is when I'm annoyed.

"Hey man, what's up?" he asks casually.

"I'm working, James. What do you need?"

He seems put out by my tone. "Well good to hear from you, too."

"James..."

"So I take it things aren't going well?" he asks suggestively. I inwardly groan; I _really_ don't feel like hearing him gloat. I really don't feel like discussing Bella with him at all.

"Things are going fine."

"Well it's been almost a week, dude. You only have two more. Otherwise..."

"I know, James. I have to get back to work. I'd appreciate it if you'd lose this number – I have a cell phone."

"I know, but you weren't answering that," is his cool reply.

"There's a reason. I'm. Working."

"Geez, aren't you the boss, dude? You can do whatever you want."

Why the fuck does everyone think I can run a company while sitting around doing nothing all day long? For Christ's sake...

"Goodbye, James," I say curtly.

"Alright, alright," he relents. "Keep me informed, dude."

I hang up the phone without replying. James has always been annoyingly persistent - where the fuck does he come off calling me at work to talk about this? It could have waited until tonight.

I've been itching to call Emmett all day long. I can't wait to lay into that motherfucker. I'd called him last night but, as expected, he didn't answer. Straight to voicemail both times – I didn't even bother leaving a message. More than anything, I'm anxious to hear his excuses.

Around lunchtime I finally get a chance to call him.

"Sperm Bank from Burbank, you spank 'em, we bank 'em," he answers cheerfully. _What the fuck_? I'm not surprised, as random and bizarre phone greetings aren't uncommon from Em.

"Mind telling me what the fuck you were thinking yesterday?" I immediately snap into the receiver. There's a short pause from his end of the line.

"May I ask what you're referring to?" he finally says.

"You know what I'm referring to, Em. Only you would give Bella they key to my house _and_ my alarm code without asking me first."

"Who, moi?" He's playing dumb, stalling for time.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" I repeat.

He turns serious, heaving a heavy sigh. "I don't know, man. She said she wanted to surprise you."

"I haven't even known her a week," I remind him.

"Well...she's friends with Rose," he says simply. As if being friends with Rose makes everything okay.

"Who you've also known less than a week."

"Did you not enjoy coming home to a beautiful woman and a home-cooked meal?" he asks snidely. He sounds impatient.

"She single-handedly demolished my kitchen," I explain, exasperated. "She even rearranged my goddamn CD collection."

"Oh, God forbid," he mutters sarcastically. Before I can comment he adds, "You know, I think Bella's good for you."

I'm confused. "What do you mean?"

"She obviously gets under your skin – in more ways than one, I think – yet you're still seeing her."

"You don't know that."

"So you're not still seeing her?"

"I...yes, I am..." For now, at least. I wasn't able to get much thinking done last night, what with all the jerking off.

"See," he says smugly. "Anyway, man, I gotta fly. I still haven't even taken my lunch break yet – busy day today."

"Well, you're not forgiven," I say sullenly.

"I never apologized."

"Exactly."

"Peace, bro."

---

I get off work a little late, just after six o'clock. I haven't heard from Bella the whole day and, while not surprised, I find myself strangely disappointed. Even some quick, snarky texts back and forth would have made the slow passage of time that much more enjoyable. Albeit, I could have texted her...but I didn't. Why hadn't I?

I realize I can't answer that question. A part of me thinks I should have contacted her today while another part thinks it's safer to give myself some distance so I can think things over. In all fairness, I decide to stick to the latter. I don't even call her on my way home. I don't plan to call her at all.

Then my phone rings, and for a brief moment I actually hope it's Bella. Then I feel stupid; "Lauren" shows up on the caller ID. She's one of the very few girls I sleep with regularly – we're kind of friends, yet more like acquaintances who fuck every now and then. But she wants it this way just as much as I do – she regards commitment with the same amount of contempt and disdain. I sigh loudly and answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey Edward," she says into the phone, easily. "Did you just get off work?"

"Um, yeah."

"You wanna come over tonight?"

If nothing else, I like Lauren because she doesn't bullshit. She always gets straight to the point. And yet tonight I find myself hesitating. But why? Lauren's easy – there are no questions, no mind games. No scrambling to figure out how I'm gonna let her down easy or avoid her altogether. And by God, with all the sexual tension from Bella, I could certainly use a release...

And then it comes to me. _Bella_. Is she the reason I suddenly feel guilty about wanting to have sex? For wanting to do something I always do?

The sensation's foreign. I don't much care for it, and I figure there's only one way to get rid of it: by conquering.

"Sure, Lauren," I say quickly, eager to assure us both. "I'm just gonna stop by my house for a second and I'll be by."

She doesn't bother inviting herself over. I don't like bringing girls to my house, a rule to which she's privy – we've already had the discussion countless times.

She practically purrs into the phone. "Okay, Edward. Don't keep me waiting long." She hangs up.

I feel anxious and I'm not sure why. This has never happened before. Then I pull towards my driveway and spot...a car? _Again_? A knot forms in my stomach, a million thoughts racing through my mind at once as I prepare myself to see Bella again.

It takes much longer than it should to comprehend that it's not Bella's blue Prius, but in fact a sleek, yellow Porsche. Not to mention there's a small, thin girl perched on the hood, grinning at me as I pull up. My shock immediately dissolves to be replaced by a very welcome surprise.

"Alice?" I slide out of the car, unable to contain my grin as she hops down from the hood of her Porsche to greet me. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

I think that first bit was as much for me as it was for you guys...

Thanks to ms_ambrosia for betaing, the Tinis for their ideas and support, and OF COURSE to all my readers and reviewers. Some of the comments are so funny...sorry I suck at replying. But I read and appreciate each and every one...you guys make writing this so much fun, so a big fat THANK YOU and MUAH for that

Twilighted thread at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440

-mybluesky


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Thirteen

"Alice? What are you doing here?"

She bounds up to me and throws her arms around my neck. "Surprise!" she gushes. "I'm staying for the weekend!"

I can't contain my surprise as I engulf her in a huge hug that lifts her feet off the ground. "When did you get here?"

"This morning."

"And you're just now letting me know?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise, silly. You're late, by the way," she reprimands me.

"I probably could have gotten off earlier if you'd called me," I hedge.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Have you been waiting outside? You know where the key is, right?"

"Eh, I haven't been here long. And you know how I get all mixed up with that stupid alarm – the last time the police showed up. Besides, it's nice out today." She grins sheepishly as I let us inside. I remove my coat as she hovers in the living room, looking around. Not much has changed since the last time she was here. As if reading my mind she states, "Christ, Edward. It wouldn't kill you to hang a picture or something. I thought for sure you'd have one up by _now_."

I gesture to a painting on the opposite wall, an abstract by Slazo. "I do have a picture up."

"A _real_ picture," she emphasizes. "You know – of _people_."

I shrug. "Have you been home yet?"

"Of course. Esme picked me up from the airport," she answers. "Speaking of which, you're coming to dinner tonight. She's cooking all my favorite foods!" She clasps her hands together and practically bounces on the spot at the thought of a home-cooked meal from Esme. I can't help but smile.

"Let me go change real quick and we can head over there," I say, heading for the stairs. Then I remember – _fuck_! I need to call Lauren. I hastily retrieve my phone from my pocket and make the call as I'm entering my bedroom.

"That was fast," says Lauren upon answering. "Are you here?" I imagine she's looking out her window, or perhaps the door. She sounds eager.

"I'm actually not gonna be able to come, Lauren," I say quickly. Surprisingly, I don't regret breaking off our meeting. It's as though a huge weight as been lifted from my shoulders.

"What? How come?" She doesn't try to mask her disappointment.

"My sister just made a surprise visit. We're going to my parent's house for dinner."

"Well, what about afterward?" Her voice is needy. Lauren is a sexy woman – normally I would be aroused by her eagerness, but tonight I'm impatient. If anything, it has the opposite effect.

"I don't know, Lauren. We'll see. I don't know what time I'm gonna be home."

"Will you call me when you're done?"

I don't bother humoring her. "I don't know. Maybe."

She whines one last time before I break off our conversation and hang up. I make quick work of changing and exit the bedroom – to my surprise, Alice is leaning against the wall by my bedroom door, arms crossed, expression sour. She looks at me incredulously as I move to stand beside her.

"That was Lauren?" she instantly deadpans. I'm taken aback – was she eavesdropping?

"Yes," I answer, adjusting my collar.

"Are you dating now?"

I roll my eyes. "You know the answer to that."

"One day," she hedges, "your disrespect of women is going to bite you in the ass."

I'm surprised...and slightly offended. "I'm not disrespecting her. _She_ called _me." _She trails me closely as we walk back down the stairs.

"You promote the slutty behavior, though," she goes on. Alice has never been one to hide her feelings from me. "Just say 'No', Edward."

I smirk and jokingly say, "But then I'd never get any."

"You could get it _respectfully."_

"Come on, Alice," I groan. "I don't feel like having this conversation right now." We'd already had it before – the first time had been the day she mistakenly met Lauren when Lauren had shown up, invited, to my house while Alice was there. Lauren had introduced herself as my friend, yet Alice made her own assumptions and was ridiculously excited for me. When she learned, shortly after Lauren's departure, that Lauren wouldn't be coming around again, her entire disposition soured and her feelings about my habits turned into an hour-long argument.

I hated disappointing her, but to be quite honest, it was none of her concern. I'd rather she not even know about it, which is why I'm slightly aggravated to discover she'd heard my conversation through the door.

She huffs as she exits the house through the front door. I stall to set the alarm and lock the door behind us.

"Fine, Edward," she eventually relents, and the subject is closed.

"You staying at home tonight?" I ask casually. It makes more sense for her to stay with Esme and Carlisle, and I haven't seen any of her belongings to indicate she plans on staying with me.

"Yes," she answers. "Want to just follow me? Or I could give you a ride back home," she offers.

"I'll just follow you."

It's only a ten-minute drive to Esme and Carlisle's house. It's nearly dark outside, yet the interior of their home is lit up, inviting...just as it always is. We're assaulted by a delicious smell upon entering and Alice immediately cries out, "Oh my _God_ that smells _good_! Hey Esme, I found him!"

Alice was only six when we came to live with Esme and Carlisle. She was so distraught over the death of our mother, crying every night, that neither Esme nor Carlisle ever insisted we call them "Mom and Dad". They took us in when we had no one else, yet they never pretended to replace what we'd lost.

Esme comes fluttering around the corner – she's beautiful, as always, wearing heels simply to cook dinner, her hair hanging in shiny, loose waves down her back. Her face is alight with a broad smile.

"Good, you guys are here! Everything is almost ready." Esme reaches up, grabs my face in both hands, and lands a big kiss on my cheek. "You kids mind setting the table?"

"Of course," Alice chirps and she grabs my hand, dragging me into the kitchen to retrieve plates and silverware.

---

BPOV

I still haven't heard from Edward, and I've made it a point not to call him. My phone remains tucked deep inside my purse, out of sight, yet not quite out of mind. It takes all my restraint not to check it obsessively.

Rose calls me after I get off work and demands that we go out for margaritas. She's dying to know the details I wouldn't supply her earlier in the day. I blush furiously just thinking about it, attempting to politely decline, but Rose is someone who doesn't take "No" for an answer. She's used to always getting her way.

I call and invite Jake along just for the sake of it. I haven't seen him much lately - I'm also eager to hear how the wedding planning is going. When we arrive at the restaurant I make a point to interrogate him before we even settle down so that Rose can't immediately harass me. She puts up with me through a staggering three margaritas. By the fourth, she's downright impatient.

"Bella!" She slams her empty glass down on the table, causing all our plates to rattle noisily. "You two have been talking about finger foods and chair ribbons for half a fucking hour. Now shut up and tell me about your date with Edward."

Her bossiness increases tenfold when she's drunk. Jake rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat. Luckily she doesn't see.

"What do you want to know?" I ask warily.

"Why the fuck you're post-coital," she dead-pans.

"Would you keep your voice down, Rose? You're bothering other people," I hiss. She straightens and looks around, whipping her head left and right. When she spots a young man looking at her, she smiles seductively and waves. He immediately breaks out in a pleased grin.

"Rose!" I gasp, grabbing her wrist to get her attention. "Would you stop it?"

"What?" She looks confused. "He was the only one who heard me." With a jerk of her head to indicate his whereabouts she adds, "He doesn't seem bothered to _me_."

"Don't make me call Emmett," I warn, although I'm joking. Rose scowls.

"Is it a crime to fucking smile at people now?" she asks loudly. _Sheesh_, this is never-fucking ending when she's drunk.

"Just let her be, Bella," Jake says from his side of the table. "You know she's only gonna get louder until she gets her way."

Rose doesn't argue and, based on past experiences, I have to agree with him. I decide to go ahead and tell them everything that happened – Lord knows Rose won't let me have peace again until I do – but she abruptly waves down our server, holding up her empty glass to indicate she needs another drink. He nods as he quickly passes and Rose turns back to me.

"Okay," she says, picking at the lime wedge on her glass, "just start from the beginning."

"Well I cooked him roasted chicken--"

"Not _that_ beginning," she hastily interrupts. "The beginning which got you your post-coital glow thingy." She bites her lime with a devious smirk.

"You didn't sleep with him, did you, Bella?" Jake quickly asks, concerned.

"No! I don't know what she's talking about." I scowl at Rose – there's no way in hell I'm ever mentioning my sex dream to anyone. For all I care she can go along forever thinking her sexual intuitions are sorely misplaced.

"So what did you do?" Rose asks. Another margarita is placed in front of her and she attacks it immediately.

I haven't told Jake we've kissed yet. I'm suddenly very ashamed – I regret inviting him along.

"We, umm...we kissed." My voice is so low that it's no surprise when Jake leans towards me, his brow furrowed.

"What?" he asks.

"We kissed," I say louder. His eyes widen in shock and I can feel my face heating.

"You _kissed_?"

"It's no big deal, Jake..."

"Like hell it isn't. What were you thinking?"

Leave it to Jake to always try and protect me.

"You really think he's gonna stick around for two weeks if I don't even _kiss _him?" I ask defensively. Rose looks back and forth between us while slowly sucking down her margarita. It's as if she's enjoying a good show.

"You know, I was okay with this before, but I really don't think this is a good idea anymore."

_Geez, what crab apple jumped up his ass_?

"Why don't you have more faith in me?" I look pointedly at Rose, hoping for support. "Rose has faith in me."

She nods above her margarita, agreeing with me. It's obvious she's wasted.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," Jake says sullenly.

"Jake, I'm not _stupid_. I know he made a bet on me..."

"Yeah, Jake," Rose chips in, "we're fucking with him. It's fun!" She turns to me conspiratorially. "Oh, I have a good idea! You should call him and play a little game of phone seduction. Get him all hot and bothered and then hang up. He'll have no choice but to whack off." She's very pleased by her idea. I don't bother to conceal my dramatic eye-roll – me? Seductive? In what universe?

When I don't move to make the call Rose becomes demanding. "Are you going to call him?"

I quirk an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

"What? Why not?"

"I don't have a seductive bone in my body, Rose."

"Bella, please." She rolls her eyes. "You obviously don't see yourself clearly."

_And you're obviously wasted_. I ignore her, a bad idea even when she's sober – she suddenly has my purse in her drunk little hands and is digging through the bag. I try, with minimal effort, to take it from her and she easily dodges my attack. I quickly settle down, not wanting to create a scene at the table.

"Here. Just call him!" Rose slurs. Her drink is sloshing every which-way as she thrusts my phone at me – she's dangerously close to giving us all a margarita shower. I take it from her hand and set it carefully on the table.

"Rose, you're drunk."

"Nuh uh! I'm just getting started. Now call him!" Without giving me a chance to respond she snatches up my phone again. "Here, I'll dial the number."

"Rose!" I nearly hurl myself across the table trying to take the phone from her. She stealthily dodges my attack again – she's a very limber drunk. I look pointedly at Jake.

"Are you just gonna sit there and let her do this?" I shout at him.

He holds up his hands in surrender. "You know I don't get between Rosalie when she's drunk."

Rose smirks triumphantly, and before I know what's happening she's thrusting the phone at my face again.

"It's _ringing," _she whispers loudly. _Holy fuck_.

"_Rose_!!" I nearly have a coronary and die. I'm two seconds away from hanging up the phone and pulling the 'oh-it-must-have-dialed-in-my-purse' excuse when a female voice answers. I freeze with my finger over the end button, shocked to my core. _Oh no he fucking didn't..._

I put the phone to my ear and snap, "Hello?" even though she'd already said it. The girl is affronted.

"Who's this?" she asks.

"Who's _this_?" I respond.

She's not pleased by my tone. _Good_. "I asked you first," she says.

I figure it's one of Edward's little conquests. I'm so angry all I want to do is fuck up his night. I immediately blurt, "I'm Edward's _girlfriend_."

A short pause follows. "Girlfriend?" the girl finally says. "Edward said he doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, well, he lied," I say snidely. "We've been dating for a week." I realize how stupid I sound after the words have already left my mouth. Jake is stifling his laughter behind his hand, clearly amused, and I send death-glares his way – this is the fucking _opposite_ of funny. I'm infuriated. Rose is staring at me, mouth agape, clearly as astonished as I am.

"Oh," says the girl, and she sighs loudly.

"Yeah, so, he's cheating on you. Just so you know," I continue sourly.

"Oh!" She sounds surprised. "I'm not his girlfriend. I'm his sister."

The pieces suddenly start clicking into place. My anger slowly dissipates to be replaced by surprise. "His sister?"

"Yeah, I'm Alice. Is this Lauren?"

_Hold the fuck up!_

"_Lauren_?" I'm raging mad all over again. She gives a gasp of surprise.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I swear I don't think sometimes. I was thinking you didn't sound like Lauren, too..." She sounds panicked as she shoves her foot further into her mouth. I hear a male voice in the background - I'm not sure if it's Edward, but she soon answers the unspoken question for me. "Here's Edward, okay? I'm sorry." The phone is handed off – I'm seething mad.

"Hello?" Edward's voice is cautious; I wonder if he heard Alice's little blunder. I realize it doesn't matter.

"Who's Lauren?" I immediately demand. A short pause follows.

"She's a friend," Edward answers warily.

"Then why the fuck would your sister think a girl claiming to be your girlfriend is her?" Normally, I would never admit that I claimed to be his girlfriend – because that's obviously not the case – but I'm so angry I don't even care. I slam money down on the table, anxious to step out of the restaurant so that I don't disturb other diners in my fury. Rose and Jake watch me in silence, their eyes wide with apprehension. I don't give them a backward glance as I make my way outside.

"It's not...it's...God, Bella, it's complicated," he sputters. "But I can explain."

"Please do." My voice is lethal.

"Lauren is a girl I used to see..."

"_Used_ to?" I interrupt.

"Yes..."

"You dated?"

"No."

"You fucked?"

He pauses. "Bella..."

"That's all I need to know." I close my eyes and take three deep breaths. _I don't care...I don't care...I don't care...he's just a game...just a ploy..._

_"_I haven't seen Alice in a while. She thought we were still seeing each other. Bella, I swear I haven't seen her since I've met you."

I roll my eyes. _Give me a fucking break_. So he hasn't fucked this Lauren chick in what...a week?

I'm torn between forgiving him – continuing this little game I've started – and calling him out on the bet right here and now. But then something evil sparks inside of me, and I figure if I'm ever going to out him then I need to do it right, damn it.

So I acquiesce. "Fine."

He's taken aback. "Fine?"

"Sure, Edward," I say sweetly. "If you say you're not seeing her anymore then I believe you." I'm amazed at my own sudden mood swing. This conversation is good for us – for me – as it's a good reality check that I need to stay focused.

He sighs in relief. "Okay. Good."

"I'll let you get back to your sister," I quickly say.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He's worried, I can tell.

"Yes, Edward." I hope my words don't sound too forced. "I'll talk to you later."

"Um, okay."

We hang up; when I go back inside the restaurant I spot Rose and Jake still sitting at the table, chatting it up. They're probably discussing me, I ponder. Rose has another full, huge margarita in front of her - _Jesus Christ_. I tuck my phone deep in my purse where she won't find it and make my way over.

When Rose spots me her eyes go wide. I sit down without a word but she's quick to start the inquisition. "Holy shit, Bella. What was that about? Did one of his slut's answer the phone?"

I shrug, feigning indifference. "It was his sister. But she called me one of his sluts."

"No!" I nod. "She called you a slut?" She asks, aghast.

"No, but she asked if I was Lauren."

"Who the fuck is Lauren?" Rose is loud, her voice carrying halfway across the restaurant. She looks angry as she begins rummaging through her purse. "Fuck this, I'm calling Emmett."

"Rose, just let it go," I say calmly.

"He can't just fuck other girls while he's trying to fuck you," she says, point-blank.

I roll my eyes but attempt to abate her sudden passion. "He said he wasn't."

"Yeah, cause he's _so_ honest," she scoffs.

"What are you gonna tell Emmett?"

"I'm gonna tell him to kick his ass." She pulls her phone out and begins dialing.

"Rose! Stop!" I wrestle the phone away – this time I'm successful. She looks like she's ready to throw down right here in the restaurant, drunk ass and all.

"What do you think you're doing?" she bellows.

"Stopping you from doing something stupid. Does it matter if he's fucking other girls?" I ask, and my conscience immediately answers: Yes, it does matter. It pisses me right the fuck off and kind of hurts my feelings. But I'm not telling anyone else that. I knew what I was getting myself into when I started this – this little wake-up call has opened my eyes and left me more determined than ever.

"Yes, it matters," Rose answers, and she turns to Jake for support. "Jake, tell her I'm right."

Jake doesn't look pleased at our exchange. His expression reeks of 'I told you so'. "I'm not getting in this," he says, his voice low.

I feel the need to make things clear to him. "It doesn't matter if he's sleeping with someone else, okay?" I say indignantly. "Because _I'm_ not sleeping with him."

"Yeah, and you're fucking useless, you know that?" Rose quickly adds. Jake just shrugs. "Okay, we need to regroup. Obviously you're being too nice--"

"Rose, can we just lay off it tonight?" I ask. All this scheming and plotting and lusting and fury has left me downright exhausted. I came out for margaritas to relax and this blunder has produced the opposite effect. I just need a night off.

"Fine," she relents. "But I'm telling Em about this. And you're buying the next round of drinks."

---

I check my phone while I'm in the elevator. I'm intrigued to find I have a new text from Edward – it's very short, simple, and to the point.

_I'm sorry. - E_

I frown at the screen. Sorry for what? For being an ass? A man-whore? For possessing so much disarming man-beauty along with those qualities that it should be illegal? I opt for all of the above and toss my phone back into the abyss of my purse with a scowl.

I'm so wound up I don't know how I'll ever be able to sleep, yet I figure it's worth a shot. I quickly get ready for bed and tuck myself under the covers while I debate chugging some NyQuil to knock myself the fuck out. That should at least ensure I don't have anymore sex dreams about Edward..._fuck_, the sex dream. With a groan I roll over, ignoring the screaming protests of my suddenly aching hoohah.

Yet maybe a little Bella time would be good for me. Maybe I just need to get it out of my system...

I find my fingers suddenly creeping south of their own accord. I don't fight them off – hell, I'm so needy right now I'm sure this will probably be the quickest orgasm in America. Then perhaps I can pass out in my post-orgasm daze and get some good sleep tonight.

I begin rubbing myself, trying to think of anything besides Edward – because I absolutely _refuse_ to get off to him twice in less than twenty-four hours – but find that my thoughts keep flickering back to him. This only serves to piss me off more. How _dare _he invade my night _and _daydreams? Such a cocky bastard...he thinks he can just go wherever he wants, getting off _whomever_ he wants. Not on my watch, buddy – I have at least six Johnny Depp movies and I'm not afraid to use them.

I'm startled when my phone suddenly rings from the bedside table. My mind immediately flashes to Edward and my whole body tenses. _Oh, shit_ – there is no way I can talk to him in this state.

I grapple for the phone and squint at the screen. It's an unrecognizable number from out of town. As far as I know it doesn't belong to Edward, yet that doesn't seem to relieve my anxiety.

A few seconds of internal debate pass before I answer with a timid, "Hello?" I'm breathing heavily, all flushed and angry from my attempted masturbation. I realize I need to get a hold of myself, pronto.

There's a female voice. "Is this Bella?"

_Who the hell is this_?

"Who is this?" I sit up a little straighter in bed, confused.

"It's Alice."

"Alice? As in Edward's sister?"

She chuckles lightly. "The one and only."

I'm confused. I can't, for the life of me, imagine what she wants.

"Um, okay. Hi," I say awkwardly.

"Hi, Bella," she responds. She wastes no time in getting to the point. "Look, I just _had _to call and apologize about earlier. I couldn't sleep thinking about it."

"How did you get my number?"

"Oh, I got it off Edward's phone when he wasn't looking."

_Ah. That makes sense...sort of._

"Oh, okay."

"So, yeah," she goes on, "I didn't mean to call you...you know. I wasn't thinking."

Settling back into bed, I relax a bit. "Oh. Well, it's no big deal," I casually lie.

"No, no," she quickly rebukes. "It is a big deal. I'm sure you think I'm a complete bitch."

I decide to joke with her, despite the fact that I have no clue what kind of person she is and how she'll react. "Well, maybe like a partial bitch."

I hear her give a sharp intake of breath. "I guess I deserve that."

"It was a joke, Alice," I say.

"Oh."

A long and awkward pause follows her word. I'm not sure what else to say to her.

"Look," she finally says, "what is Edward to you?"

I'm caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you really like him? I hate to see girls get hurt over him, Bella...and you seem like a nice girl. I have a feeling about you."

She has a feeling about me? That's interesting; if she only knew of my real relationship with Edward then she'd probably be disgusted with us both - him for making the bet, and me for using my knowledge of it to my advantage.

Good thing she doesn't know.

"Yeah, I like him," I reply off-handedly. I figure it won't do to tell her about the bet, lest she run to Edward and reveal the whole thing. "You think he's gonna hurt me?" I'm being curious now.

She sighs. "Edward's had a difficult life, Bella." _Interesting..._ "He doesn't usually stay with women very long. He won't admit it, but I think it has a lot do with the death of our mom."

I perk up, sensing a butt-load of information soon to be revealed in my immediate future. If there is anything that explains the way Edward is I would love to know about it.

"What do you mean?" I ask. I hope I don't sound too eager.

"Has he told you anything about it?"

"No..."

She sighs again and abruptly changes the subject, much to my dismay. "So what are you doing this weekend? I'd love to meet you."

_Damn it_. She's not going to tell me.

"I don't know," I admit truthfully. My plans with Edward have been vague at best. I don't really even know for sure that I'll see him.

"You wanna go out tomorrow night? There's a great little club here. Edward's gonna be helping Esme move furniture – she's redesigning the second family room again." Holy shit – _second_ family room? And who is Esme? "But," she continues before I can reply, "he probably won't like that I called you. Or that I went through his phone...but you know, I'm his sister. I have to approve his girls."

I laugh heartily. "Are you trying to make me nervous or something?" I wonder. Though it doesn't really matter whether or not she approves – it's not like I have a future with Edward.

"No, no, no!" she says quickly. "I already told you – I've got a good feeling about you."

I'm not sure how she can have a good feeling about someone she's never even met, but keep this thought to myself. She seems nice enough and obviously disapproves of Edward's behavior. I wonder how crazy he would be to discover I've hung out with his sister behind his back.

I can't help but smile a little at the thought. "Alright," I agree. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

Sorry for the longer-than-usual update time. Working full time plus a full load of class is seriously kicking my ass...but just know that I still plan on updating at least once a week.

Thanks to everyone...ms_ambrosia for betaing, all my readers and reviewers. Sorry I suck at replying to reviews, but I lurrrvve them lots. It's amazing to me how varying the opinions are...one second I get a review from someone who thinks Bella's antics are going a bit too far, the next someone doesn't think she's doing _enough_. Whew! Just know that I have a plan for these two and hope you guys have fun with it...but since someone mentioned this, and it made me go total facepalm, I'd like to point out that Edward isn't a closet serial killer or anything...srsly, this is a happy story, yo. A total corpse-free zone. And just what the fuck does the bet have to do with Alice? Hmm, I believe I'll let you guys stew in that one a bit longer...

Twilighted thread is at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440 if you want to play. I post teasers!

I've finally figured out this whole Twitter thing...I think...anywho, you can follow me at mybluesky1.

I love hearing what you think...reviews are always appreciated


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Fourteen

Edward didn't call the whole next day. Honestly, I'd expected him to be groveling at my feet by now, but no such luck. I'm not sure what's going on in that head of his, but I'm still a little irritated with him and therefore don't even bother trying to figure him out.

It doesn't escape my notice that it's Friday – the weekend – and despite his vague assurances that he would come to Seattle, I haven't heard from him. I have no idea if he's coming, or if he ever intended to. Perhaps he's done with me...perhaps he's given up.

But little does he know that I'm not done with him. _Not yet, my pretty_ – my subconscious cackles mercilessly. Tonight should be fun. I'll get a real glimpse into his life by hanging with his sister. If I'm lucky I'll be able to divulge more information about him.

I receive a text just after lunch and I'm ashamed to find myself hoping it's Edward. With a scowl I check the screen – it's Emmett.

_Rose told me Eddie was being a douche again. Sorry – Em_

Such a sincere text is so unlike him. Curious, I reply: _I expect nothing less anymore. - B_

_He really is a good guy, just a little...socially retarded sometimes. – Em_

I have to smile at that. Before I can respond Emmett is texting me yet again: _I think you're good for him. I think he's feeling a little guilty – Em_

_Good, he should feel guilty – B_

He never responds. I'm not sure if he's busy or forgot about our conversation or what, but I let it go and instead focus on meeting up with Alice tonight. I'm a bit anxious at the thought, yet I can't exactly place _why _this is.

Immediately after work, I head home and get ready. It doesn't take long; I leave my hair straight and change into a simple pair of tight jeans and heels with a flirty blouse. I indulge in a quick Hot Pocket, knowing I won't get a chance to eat on the way or after I arrive.

Once I'm in Olympia, I call Alice and ask for specific directions to the club. She's already there, apparently eager to see me. As I inch closer to the destination, my nerves increase tenfold. My stomach is a bundle of knots.

It's early when I arrive – about eight-thirty – but the place is already packed. It seems to be one of the more popular clubs in Olympia. Sweaty bodies pass this way and that, the music is blaring and the lights are low. It's hard to make anyone out, and despite Alice's assurance that she'd be near the bar, dressed in a tight blue dress, I'm starting to worry I won't be able to find her.

But that fear is soon abated; I find a small girl with dark, spiky hair sipping a colorful drink. Her back is to the bar as she searches the crowd. Her eyes meet mine and for a second we simply look at each other, neither of us reacting. But the but dress tells me it must be her and I react, quickly stepping closer. She smiles as our proximity narrows.

"Are you Alice?" I inquire, and she grins.

"You must be Bella!"

She's very enthusiastic, grinning from ear to ear. I smile, going for a handshake or something equally awkward, but she takes me by surprise, discarding her drink atop the bar and engulfing me in a tight hug. Not that I oppose the idea, but I've never been much of a hugger; nonetheless, I awkwardly return the gesture, wide-eyed, until she releases me.

She picks her drink up again, nonplussed by the situation. "I'm so glad to finally meet you," she says.

"Um, yeah. Me, too." I don't know what to say; I feel awkward. I can't help but notice that her eyes are the same startling green as Edward's, her nose as straight and her chin just the same – the resemblance is uncanny. She's very pretty, which comes as no surprise.

"You're pretty," she says suddenly, and I can feel my face heating, reddening in the dim light. "You want to get a drink?"

A drink would probably be a good idea...I feel like I need to relax. Alice gets the attention of the bartender and I quickly order a Cosmo.

Her attention turns back to me again. "So," she says conversationally, "how did you meet Edward?" She speaks loudly over the music.

"Um, at a club, actually," I admit.

"Oh. So you go out a lot?"

"Not really. It was the first time I had gone out in a while..." A thought comes to me. "Does Edward know we're here?"

"Oh, no," she quickly assures with a chuckle. "I didn't tell him. Did you tell him?"

"No."

"Good. He doesn't know then." She smiles shyly at me. "Sorry, he can be a grump sometimes. He really let me have it last night when we got off the phone." She rolls her eyes.

I'm surprised by this information...and unbelievably intrigued, of course. "What did he say?"

She shrugs. "Oh, you know...he told me not to answer his phone again." Another eye-roll. It seems that's all the information she's willing to divulge. I obviously need to do a little digging...

"What about Lauren?" I ask. I don't know what kind of information I'm expecting her to reveal. I just want...something, damn it!

She looks guilty at the mention. "Look, I'm sorry about that," she says.

"I said it was fine," I quickly reply. And I sound fine. I want her to know she has nothing to worry about. "But seriously, Alice. We've only been dating a week. If he's already cheating on me I'd like to know about it now...you know, before things get too serious." I fidget anxiously as I say this and Alice hesitates, her thoughts torn.

Finally, she sighs. "Bella, I like you," she says. I wait patiently for her to continue. "But Edward is...difficult. I've never seen him have an actual girlfriend." This doesn't sound good. She sighs again, a loud, exaggerated puff of air passing her lips. "Look, do you ever just have a _feeling_ about things?"

I'm not sure what she's talking about, but I'm certain she's avoiding my original question.

"I don't know," I answer with a shrug. She looks grim, uncertain – an obvious internal debate is waging through her mind.

I bring us back to the original topic. "So is he fucking Lauren, Alice?" I ask point-blank.

Her eyes widen a bit at the profanity. She looks ashamed as she answers – ashamed of Edward? "He was going to meet her last night," she finally admits.

_I fucking knew it_. I don't want to be mad – I want to pretend it was nothing less than what I expected – but those attempts are futile. I can feel my anger bubbling, my jaw tensing, and my chest tightening. With one quick motion I down my entire Cosmo before ordering another. Alice watches this entire process with apprehensive eyes.

I want to tell her it's fine - that I don't care - but I can't. I bite my lip, afraid if I utter one word about it I'll unleash a string of expletives to everyone within shouting distance.

Why do I let him affect me this way? That _asshole_.

"Bella..." Alice gently grabs my wrist, hoping to capture my attention. "I'm sorry. He _didn't_ meet her, though." That doesn't make me feel better. No, not one single bit. Alice sighs again. "You know, I want to hate him for this, but I can't. He has a hard time getting attached to people, Bella. He doesn't let people close to him. I know you don't understand, but...he's not a bad person, I swear he's not."

Yeah, yeah. My previous conversation with Emmett replays itself in my mind and I want to roll my eyes at the audacity of the words. If he's such a fucking good guy then why does he make bets on innocent, unsuspecting women?

The bartender hands me my second Cosmo and I find myself downing it just as quickly. Both Alice and the bartender quirk an eyebrow at me – I can already feel the effects of the alcohol, the clear liquid soaking through to dull my angered senses.

"Another?" asks the bartender. I nod and he takes the glass again, clearly amused.

"Bella?" Alice sounds worried. "Are you okay? Maybe you should slow down."

Slow down? She's lucky I'm not on my fourth round of shots by now.

"I'm fine, Alice." The words come out more forced than I'd like. "Thank you for telling me."

This doesn't seem to appease her. "Are you going to leave him?"

I raise my eyebrows at her. Is this girl serious? "Wouldn't you?" I snap. She's nonplussed, apparently expecting such a reaction.

Though if I'm honest with myself, I _knew_ he'd do something like this. It shouldn't – _doesn't_ – matter. I can't let my anger take control of the situation. Again, it's simply the reality check that I need.

So why does it hurt so much?

"I guess so," Alice finally admits. She sounds disappointed. "I'm sorry, Bella. I don't want him to hurt you, that's why I told you all of this. I'm a pretty horrible sister." Now she just looks fucking sad. _Great_.

I feel the need to comfort her. After all, it's not her fault her brother's a douche.

"You're not a horrible sister, Alice," I say with a sigh. "It's just...it just kind of pisses me off. But we're not _technically_ exclusive," I admit. "I'm not actually his girlfriend. I just said that because I was pissed off when I thought someone like Lauren was answering the phone..." I feel so stupid, and even more so when Alice doesn't look surprised.

"I would've done the same thing," she offers.

I smile lightly. "Thanks."

The bartender produces my third Cosmo and offers Alice another drink. I sip this one more slowly, yet still deliberately, hoping to ease some of this tension while not ending up face-down on the floor of the bar.

I idly wonder what Alice would think if I told her about the bet. She's essentially still a stranger, still unpredictable. She could be willing to help me, as is Emmett, or she could completely fly off her rocker and tell Edward about the whole thing. She wouldn't be happy, of that much I'm certain...but would she agree with all of these stunts I'm pulling?

However, it would only make Edward appear as an even bigger asshole in her mind. As pissed as I am, I still can't find it within me to do that to him. To _her_.

I keep my mouth firmly shut. We linger at the bar, which grants us easier access to more drinks. I have a feeling I'm going to go through plenty before the night is over. I wonder, fleetingly, if Alice will be able to recommend any good hotels; I'm already feeling woosy and the nights just beginning.

"So..." Alice looks at me nervously. With my third Cosmo down, I'm starting to feel a little better. "Would you think I'm like...insane...if I asked you to give him another chance?"

I want to laugh at the absurdity of the question. Under any normal circumstances I would safely answer yes, that I'd think she was very insane. But nothing about this night – about this whole _week – _has been normal.

But I don't say any of this, of course, and instead regard her curiously. "And why should I give him another chance?" I'm interested to hear her reasons, but she seems frustrated when she has to explain.

"I just have a _feeling_. It's...it's weird, I already know that. But it's just something I trust and it's like...a premonition, you know? Don't you ever just get a feeling about some things?" She seems so desperate for me to understand. I decide to humor her.

"I guess. I mean, sometimes I'll wake up and have this feeling it's gonna be a bad day...and then it turns out really shitty." What an awful example, I think, but Alice's eyes brighten as she clings to whatever leverage she can find.

"Exactly! A lot like that!"

I'm not sure what she means with all this talk of a _feeling_. She doesn't know about the extenuating circumstances that surround our relationship, though I'm sure if she did things would be different. But I realize that this actually works out in my favor. This way, I can continue my game with Edward with a clear head. Alice will be none the wiser, most likely thinking it was my promise to her that lead me on my further pursuits and not my obvious insanity.

As my mother always said, never look a gift horse in the mouth.

"So," Alice eagerly continues, "you sort of get what I'm saying?"

I smile, mostly just to placate her. "Yeah, I do." She's patiently awaiting my answer to her previous question. "And yes, I'll give him another chance."

She squeals – actually fucking _squeals – _before wrapping me up in a big hug. For Edward to be so distant, she sure is touchy-feely. It's like night and day.

"That's great, Bella." She's all excited now as she regards my empty glass. "Want another drink? This one's on me."

Another drink, eh? Don't mind if I do.

---

As the night goes on, the club grows increasingly more packed. We dance some, together – Alice refuses to dance with another man, claiming she has eyes for no one except her boyfriend, Jasper, who's back in San Francisco. I heed her actions and refuse all dances as well, pretending I have no interest in anyone except Edward. She tells me about her school, about Jasper, about San Francisco; I tell her about my work, about my parents, about Jake and Rose and a little about the wedding.

By ten o'clock I've lost count of how many drinks we've had. I think she has, too. We're both drunk beyond comprehension, making fools of ourselves on the dance floor, but it's so much fun that neither of us care. Alice finally finds us a small table in the corner while I get us another round of drinks. I tip the bartender way too much, tell him he makes the best Cosmo is Washington, and stumble towards our sticky resting spot.

Alice accepts her drink with gusto and then insists on tasting mine, exclaiming, "Oh my fucking gosh, this is the best Cosmo in the _world_!"

I decide, right then and there, that I fucking love this girl. I think of ways of getting Edward to Vegas, getting him drunk, and unsuspectingly getting hitched with him at the nearest chapel, all so I can keep Alice as a sister forever.

In my drunken state, I find myself confiding in her. "Alice, I really dooo like your brother."

She slurs back at me, "I know, he really likes you tooooo."

"Nooo he doesn't."

"Bella, trust meee....if you had of seeeeen him after I talked to yoouuu, you'd know _exactly_ what I was talking about." She nearly sways off her chair at the conclusion of this statement.

"He only wants one thing," I pointedly whine.

"Yes, Bellaaa, but everything is gonna change. I have a pre-mon-it-ion, remember?" She annunciates each syllable of the word so I'll better understand.

"Your pre-mon-it-ion could be wrong."

"No, Bella, I'm aalllwaayys right."

We both giggle.

"I like you, Alice."

"I _really_ like you, Bella."

"I have to pee."

"Okay. I'm gonna go get a fucking Cosmo. That shit is _good_."

There's a line at the bathroom. As I wait I find my thoughts swimming around the confession I just gave, around Edward and his douchbaggery ways. Why can't he just be a normal, romantic guy? Preferably one who doesn't make bets on girls. The thought makes me angry and indignant. Though I suppose I should be grateful, I think sarcastically – if he wasn't such a commitment-phobe then some beautiful girl would've probably snatched him up by now.

When I've done my business I spot Alice still at the bar trying to get the bartender's attention – he seems a little overwhelmed at the sudden swell in the crowd. Retreating back to the quiet hallway, I impulsively make my phone call. There's not much thought involved.

Edward answers on the second ring.

"Edward," I slur. I sound like Courtney Love after a round of Botox and pain killers. Immediately, I ask the inevitable. "Why don't you like me?"

Oh dear God...even in my drunken state I know I'll regret this in the morning.

"Bella?" He sounds confused.

"Yes, Edward, it's Bella," I slur angrily. "Not fucking _Lauren_, though I wouldn't be surprised if you're with her right now and already know that."

"Bella, where are you?" he quickly asks, ignoring my little outburst.

"A club."

"Are you drunk?"

"No, Edward," I lie, exasperated. "Now answer my question."

"You're being absurd, Bella. Who are you with?"

"I'm with a guy who actually _likes_ me," I lie again. I want desperately to get a rise out of him, the way he has gotten a rise out of me.

"Bella, _tell me who you're with_," he says harshly, no nonsense to his tone. I cringe a little, realizing there's only one answer that would piss him off more than claiming to be with another guy. And of course, this answer is the truth.

With a lazy, drunken grin I reply, "I'm with your sister, Edward. Alice."

There's a pause, and I know he just _has_ to be pissed. I mean, who wouldn't be? A part of me is glad he's on the phone and not here in person. Even my drunken conscience still has a sense of self-preservation.

It feels like an eternity has passed before he speaks again. "What do you mean, you're with my sister?"

"Exactly what I said. I've been with her aaalll night...she's quite fun to be around." I have to lean against the wall for support lest I fall over. The room is spinning and I'm getting a sick feeling in my stomach...a feeling which has nothing to do with the thought of Edward and Lauren together. Well, not entirely, at least.

"What club are you at, Bella?" he asks darkly. If I wasn't suddenly so nauseous, I just know I could say something smart, pissing him off more, but I fear I'm going to hurl right here in the hallway. An agonized moan leaves my lips. Edward grows concerned. "Bella?"

"I gotta...I gotta..." There's still a line for the bathroom..._fuck_! In a moment of desperation I scramble for a nearby trashcan, immediately unleashing the remnants of my small dinner and endless number of Cosmopolitans into the smelly thing. I clutch the phone tightly in my hand, against the can, and as far as I know Edward is still on the line, listening to me empty my stomach again and again.

The retching seems endless. People pass in the hallway, regarding me with either disgust or amusement. My face is sweaty, I'm shaking, and most importantly, I'm humiliated beyond repair.

When I finally put the phone back to my ear it's only to discover that Edward has hung up. I imagine he was probably grossed out listening to that mess. I'm sure he's probably fed up with me – yes, that's why he hung up. So he wouldn't have to put up with it anymore. Because I'm not putting out and, just as James had made clear, there's nothing else about me worth sticking around for.

My eyes burn with unshed tears as I push my way into the bathroom, hoping to rinse my mouth a bit before returning to Alice.

---

EPOV

I grimace as I hear Bella retching only God-knows where. I can hear music in the background, the rustle of something or another against the receiver...a short pause in her retches follows and I wonder if she's finished.

"Bella?" I ask warily. The retching commences. With an aggravated sigh I hang up the phone, knowing I'm not going to get anywhere this way.

What the hell is going on? She's with my _sister_? How? _Why_? I can only conclude that this is mostly Alice's doing. With a scowl I quickly dial her number, knowing she never goes anywhere without her phone.

When she answers it's obvious she's just as trashed as Bella. I can feel my blood boiling over all of this.

"Alice, what the fuck is going on?" I demand. There's loud music in the background and a crowd of voices.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alice slurs. "What's wrong?"

"Alice, where are you?" My voice is low and determined. I grab my keys, ready to head out as soon as I have their whereabouts. I already know of Alice's favorite club around here...practically the only one she ever frequents. I figure I'll head there until she gives up the information.

"I'm...I'm at a club, Edward. Where are you?"

"I'm coming to get you."

"No, you're not!" She's angry, her voice a loud screech into the phone.

"Like fucking hell I'm not. Are you with Bella?"

There's a pause before she says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I just got off the phone with her and, incidentally, this same music was playing in the background. Are you aware that she's puking her brains out right now? Are you with her?"

She sounds worried. "Really? She's uhh...she's in the bathroom. She said she had to pee."

"Where are you, Alice?"

"We're at The Vault."

"I'll be there in ten minutes." I hang up the phone without waiting for her to respond. When I reach the club I make quick work of parking, yet upon approaching the entrance, I find Alice and Bella sitting on the curb outside. Bella has her head in her hands, her face hidden from view, while Alice rubs her back consolingly. They both look beyond wasted.

Alice looks up at me apprehensively. Bella doesn't stir; I'm not even sure she's conscious.

There's a million things I want to say to Alice - this time she's most certainly taken her meddling too far – but I can focus on nothing but Bella slumped against her on the sidewalk. And she was pissed at me. About Lauren. My stomach tightens in remorse as I crouch down, pushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes are closed, her cheeks wet. Has she been crying? She stirs at my touch, moving her face away from me.

I gently grab her arm, hoping to ease her from the ground. Thank God Alice is still awake. How much did she have to drink?

"Come on, Bella. It's time to go home," I coax. She groans but unsteadily rises at my persistence, clinging to my arms and shirt for balance. Her eyes open but don't meet mine; she looks deathly pale.

"I think she just had a little too much to drink," Alice says nervously. _No shit_.

"What the hell is she doing all the way in Olympia?" I keep my voice lowered, yet the furious bite is still there.

"Well when she said she'd come I thought she lived here. I didn't find out she lived in Seattle until tonight, Edward. I promise."

"And why are you inviting her places? You don't even know her."

"I wanted to meet her..."

I sigh. Alice is sure to always force herself into my life, my affairs, one way or another. I should have expected nothing less.

Bella can hardly walk straight, which makes the trip back to the car awkward. I have half a mind to sweep her up and carry her bridal style down the street, saving us all some time. When we reach the car, I ease her into the passenger's seat and lock her into the seatbelt. Her eyes are closed again and she still hasn't acknowledged me.

The drive back to Esme and Carlisle's house is awkward and silent. Alice fidgets in the backseat, nearing unconsciousness herself. At one point she reaches forward and pushes Bella's hair off her face, asking her if she's alright; Bella gives a weak nod in response and the silence stretches on, lingering among us.

When I drop Alice off, she peers at me through the open window and says, "I know you're mad at me, but I have _your_ best interest at heart."

With my mouth set in a grim line, I nod. "It's fine, Alice."

"What are you going to do with her?"

What does she think I'm going to do with her? Drop her off at a shelter? Dispose of her in the river?

"I'm taking her home and putting her to bed." Not only is Seattle a long drive, but the thought of leaving Bella alone, while she's in this state, unsettles me.

Alice sighs. She's exhausted, I can tell, and with one quick sweep forward she kisses me on the cheek and retreats, mumbling, "Thank you, Edward," as she goes.

I have no music on in the car. It's just me and Bella, the lingering silence, and my chaotic thoughts. I don't know what to make of this situation – of Bella meeting my family without my knowledge. It's something out of my comfort zone, and why either girl took the initiative is beyond me.

I recall our conversation last night, over the phone, when she referred to herself as my girlfriend. I haven't had a girlfriend since the fourth grade, and even then our relationship consisted of nothing more than holding hands and sharing my Snack Pack at school. To hear Bella voice it aloud was surprising. Discomforting, even.

Bella's a beautiful woman. She's smart, career-orientated, funny, and witty. And Lord knows she keeps me on my toes, never allowing a dull moment to creep near.

If I were to ever settle down with a woman, I'd want her to be like Bella. And maybe one day it will happen; perhaps one day I'll feel the urge to settle.

Bella begins stirring next to me, capturing my attention. When I look over she's peering back at me with sleepy eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asks me. Her voice comes out raw and rough.

"Taking you home," I answer.

"Hope I didn't interrupt your _date_," she says spitefully. She rests her head back against the seat and closes her eyes.

_Holy shit_. Even wasted and nearly unconscious she still manages to be a smartass. I smile despite every inclination that screams to be offended.

"If you mean my date with Law and Order, then yes, I'm sorry to say you did interrupt," I reply.

She's silent; I wonder if she's fallen asleep, but after a moment she yawns and rolls awkwardly to her side, straining against the seatbelt, and faces the door. "Whatever," she grumbles. I can tell she's not buying a thing I say, even though it's the truth. I wonder what Alice told her tonight.

A few minutes later we reach my house. Bella proves to be awake when she hastily stumbles out of the car, muttering under her breath as she totters unsteadily on her heels. I rush around to her side to help her.

"I thought you were taking me home," she complains.

"This is home. _My_ home."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

I'm a little taken aback by her statement. "I have a guest bedroom," I say indignantly.

"Fine."

I help her into the house, up the stairs and towards the bedroom. She stops me, however, by claiming she wants to brush her teeth, so I direct her to the bathroom instead and present her with a new toothbrush. In the meantime, I escape to my room to change, figuring I'll go to sleep as soon as she's tucked in. I give her a while, but she never exits the bathroom; the light is still on, pooling at the space beneath the door, and silence hangs all around. I eventually knock.

"Bella? Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Bella?"

Nothing. I grow slightly anxious.

"I'm coming in," I call loudly, and, while sending a silent prayer that she's not in the middle of taking care of any _business_, I push the door open. I immediately spot her sitting on the toilet, yet notice that the lid is closed. She's sleepily rubbing her face with her hands...obviously, she's still awake. For a moment I feared she had conked out on the floor. Is she just ignoring me?

I enter the bathroom, leaving the door parted behind me. "Bella? Are you okay?"

She looks up at me. Her face is pale, yet her cheeks are flushed and pink. Her eyes are narrowed from exhaustion and lack of sobriety, it seems. She looks a right mess.

And still, she ignores me.

"Bella..." I begin again, but suddenly she interrupts.

"You never answered my question."

I'm surprised and...confused. "What question?" I ask.

"You know."

"No, Bella, I don't," I say truthfully. I can't for the life of me think of what she means.

"Why don't you like me?"

Ah, yes..._that _question. But why in the world does she think I don't like her? Is this why she's been hostile towards me all night?

"What makes you think I don't like you?"

My question appears to make her angry. "Because you're sucking my boobies one day and meeting up with this...this..._skank_...the next."

Goddamn it. All I do is dig myself deeper and deeper. I don't want to hurt Bella, yet I've agreed to something that seems to do just that no matter which direction I take. I realize meeting with Lauren during all of this probably wasn't the wisest idea. Bella is helping me realize that my judgment is pure shit...but what to do? I could tell her I _don't_ like her and send her packing tomorrow, never to see her again. I could complete the bet and hurt her that way...or I could tell her about the bet and hurt her _that_ way. Either way, it's an endless charade of Bella being hurt while I stand to the side sporting my douche card. There is no easy option.

While meeting with James, in my drunken state, I had mistakenly thought this whole thing would be easier. I'd never thought the girl to which he was referring would be like...Bella. How the fuck did a girl like Bella end up with a guy like him, anyway? And she stuck around for _three months_?

I shouldn't have made the bet concerning any girl, no matter their personality. My mother would probably roll over in her grave if she knew. Yet at the time I was drunk, provoked, and anxious for any way to help my sister.

She obviously knows of my plans with Lauren – I have Alice to thank for that, no doubt – and I feel there's no point in lying about it now. "I don't know, Bella," I say quietly. I lean against the sink, feeling all kinds of shitty. "I don't know why I did that." I run a hand through my hair, wishing I could tug it the fuck out and create some kind of distraction for myself. I feel mentally exhausted.

Bella remains silent. Her elbows are propped on her knees and she stares at her hands contemplatively.

"I'm sorry," I eventually say. I'm sorry for a lot of things, most of which she'll never know about. "I guess the real question should be why do _you_ like _me_?"

She snorts. "I don't."

I deserve that. That and so much more.

"Okay," I say quietly.

"You have no respect for women," she angrily adds.

"I know."

"Are you going to do it again?"

I frown. "Do what?"

"See..._her_."

I want to tell her yes; I want to send her screaming for the door, raging mad, hopefully too angry to ever speak to me again. Maybe that way would be easiest for her.

But the word leaves my lips before I even think about it. "No."

"You promise?"

_Say no, Edward...be rid of her...finish this..._

The thought of hurting her, of pissing her off so badly that she never returns, makes me feel a little sick. The feeling surprises me. Had this been Lauren, or any other girl, I would've said the word and been done with all this fucking drama without a second thought.

"Yes, Bella. I promise."

She rises from the toilet so quickly it startles me, her eyes alight with a fire I've never seen. She stands directly in front of me, her expression torn...passionate. She's so close that her chest touches my own.

"What do you want from me?" she asks, her gaze boring hard into my own. She's expecting something from me, I can tell. I just don't know what it is.

"What do you mean?" I ask, surprised. She suddenly leans forward and kisses me hard, hungrily, her body colliding with mine, and the passion of the moment sends me stumbling backwards into the sink. Soap dispensers and toiletries are knocked over behind me and the clang of plastic against porcelain echoes around the small room.

Bella hands are on my shirt, roughly gripping the fabric into her fists, and her tongue enters my mouth forcefully. Against my will, I can feel my dick hardening in my jeans as she presses her body flush against mine. For a brief moment I kiss her back, lost in the taste of her, and then I break free from her kiss with a great deal of determination. She's nonplussed by the interruption, her mouth immediately finding my neck where she nips and sucks at the sensitive skin. My eyes roll back a bit as I groan, "Bella...what are you...we need to...we need to stop."

She doesn't move away. One hand moves away from my shirt, taking refuge in my hair. I grip the counter of the sink tightly, determined not to touch her lest I do something highly inappropriate while she's in this inebriated state.

And she's ignoring me...again.

"Bella..." I croak.

"What's wrong?" she breaths, her lips finding mine again. My head's swimming as my body responds, my dick hardening and my tongue brushing her own, matching her fire. Yet my mind is screaming to get away, to put her to bed where she belongs – to put a literal wall between us. I'm not sure what the fuck she's thinking right now, but I know, with certainty, that she's drunk.

"Isn't this what you want?" she breaths against my lips.

Yes. _God,_ yes.

"You're drunk," is all I manage between her fervent kisses.

"Not anymore." That's complete bullshit and we both know it, yet she continues her assault on my mouth. She grabs the front of my jeans with one hand, determinedly fumbling with the button, and I immediately swipe her hand into my own, halting her actions. She's confused; with heaving breaths she pants, "What's wrong, Edward? This is what you want." She doesn't ask me this time. She tells me.

"You're drunk," I say, equally out of breath. She shakes her head fervently and leans forward to kiss me again, but I use every ounce of control I have and quickly turn my head up and away. She kisses my jaw instead.

"I'm not," she insists. Her free hand leaves my hair and finds my jeans, eager to continue where the other left off. I easily capture it with my other hand and push both of her hands away.

"No, Bella," I say forcefully. "We're not doing this."

Our labored breaths fill the quiet bathroom. She looks up at me with trepidation, her body relaxed against mine. She no longer struggles against me and I eventually release her hands. She uses them to push her hair out of her face, nodding quickly with a look of resignation, plus something else I can't quite place...placation? Relief?

"Okay," she agrees. "Which room is mine?"

Relieved, I walk her down the hall to the guest bedroom, watching as she slips inside. "I'll bring you something to sleep in," I say.

She comes to the door when I return and I place the clothes directly in her hands. She watches me uncertainly, biting her lower lip as if holding back something she wants to say. Her lips are full and pink from our forceful kisses, and I find myself yearning to taste them again.

But she's drunk, and despite the fact that she literally threw herself at me, I don't want to do anything inappropriate. I once again practice more restraint than I thought existed in my body by refraining.

"Goodnight, Bella," I say. I lean forward to briefly kiss her cheek before I retreat to my bedroom. The wall is placed between us, her beautiful body a safe distance from my own.

* * *

A/N: No worries, the fun's not over yet...I just felt these two needed a little reality slap. So *smack*, there it is, bitches.

Big thanks to ms_ambrosia...I made that girl work hard this chapter lol. Also my readers and reviewers...I responded to some of you last time, but sorry I couldn't get to all of you. The good news is come the 2nd week of March I should start having more time. But please keep them coming, I love knowing what you think...even if you hate it...and reveiws make me write faster. I know everyone says that, but it's actually true :-)

You can follow me on Twitter at mybluesky1. I'm still getting the hang of using it but will try to post teasers there.

Twilighted thread is at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440. Feel free to pop in and chat.

Until next time...


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Fifteen

BPOV

It seems my head awakens before the rest of my body. Even in my dream, I can feel it pounding against my skull, painful and unrelenting. Dream Bella pulls a Tylenol out of thin air and pops it into her mouth. Unfortunately, things are never that easy for conscious Bella.

I groan and roll over, not daring to open my eyes. I can see the sunlight glowing behind my eyelids, the hot rays all around me. I make a mental note to pin a blanket up over my window tonight. That perky fucking sun has simply _got _to go.

I toss an arm over my eyes and lay that way a few more minutes. Then I hear a door open and close from somewhere beyond the bedroom and my whole body tenses. Quickly, I rip my arm away, squinting against the light, and I'm mortified and astonished to discover I'm not in _my_ bedroom. I bolt upright, regretting that move the instant it happens, and rip the covers away from my body with lightening speed. I gasp. I have on no pants. No pants. A big, wrinkled t-shirt with _no pants_!

But I check and oh, thank heavens, I'm still wearing panties. My heart rate slows a bit as the previous nights events slowly come back to me. Yet as my heart rate slows, my face glows redder and redder, the blush creeping all the way down my chest. I'm beyond mortified.

Did I seriously drunk dial Edward? And then proceed to throw up while I was on the phone with him? That only happens in nightmares and cheap, floozy comedies, right? _Right_?

Wrong.

I groan and collapse back onto the bed, another move I regret, and slowly mull over the previous night. I'd thrown up in Edward's ear and he'd come to pick me up. Then, I angrily interrogated him until he promised not see Lauren again, though I'm actually pretty pleased about that part. But then I got the brilliant idea to throw myself at him. I didn't plan to follow through – in fact, I'm certain I wouldn't have. I was still so angry, but I was drunk and upset and wanted to test him a bit. He knew I was drunk – I threw up in his ear for crying out loud! - so that was a true test of his character. Had he been willing to sleep with me then I would've known he was a complete schmuck who was ready and willing to use me no matter what...so long as it benefited him. He's lucky he pulled back or else a swift kick to his balls would've surely helped him see the light of reason.

But now, in the light of day, I regret my actions. It was a quick and easy way to find out if he really was as deplorable as he was coming across, and for that I'm not sorry. I feel better knowing he has a good conscience buried somewhere deep. But do I look for the good in everybody this way, or am I just eager to find it in him? And why? I don't care if he's a good person. After Jake's wedding I won't see him again. He can fuck and shag until the cows come home, as my mother would say – it won't make a bit of difference to me then.

But I'm embarrassed. My rationale is shaking her head at me, sorely disappointed. I'd thrown myself at Edward, and for all he knew, I was willing to give myself to him right there on the bathroom counter. I'd come across as a sloppy drunk, one without a trace of self-respect for miles and miles. I'd placed myself with all those other girls...all to test this man who'd made a bet on me. What was I thinking?

I hear another door open and close and then footsteps, yet Edward doesn't come into the room. I lay in bed a few minutes to get my bearings and will my headache away. I feel nauseous again but it eventually passes. When I roll over to finally clamber out of bed, I'm surprised to find a glass of water and two white pills sitting on the bedside table. I pop them into my mouth without a second thought and stumble out of bed, pulling on my too-tight jeans. It suddenly occurs to me that I'm wearing _his_ shirt again and I stick my nose into the sleeve, inhaling deeply. Damn, he smells good. I'll take his smell as a hangover remedy any day.

I open the door a crack, peeking into the hallway. I wish there was a bathroom in this room so I wouldn't have to risk bumping into him before I get a chance to check my appearance. I have no idea what I look like but I know a night of hard drinking is never good for my skin. Or hair. Or eyes.

I don't have time to fret over this – a sudden wave of nausea rolls through me again, sending me flying for the bathroom before I can even check the other end of the hall for his presence. I slam the door shut, sending the wall scones rocking, and barely make it to the toilet before I'm retching and dry-heaving. My stomach muscles ache and scream in protest, still sore from my performance last night.

The dry heaves come and come and come. Why the hell am I still trying to vomit if there's nothing left inside of me? I make the most awful noises whilst hugging the toilet like my first-born. I've never been so thankful as in this moment that Edward is such a neat freak. I'm unbearably happy that his toilet is pristine, noting with glee that the water is even blue with some kind of heavily scented, PineSol-ish cleaner.

Then, with one knock at the door, all of my dignity, all of my pride, comes crashing down around me, a useless puddle under my bare, nauseated feet.

I want to speak, to tell him to leave, but I don't have it in me. I send a silent prayer instead.

_Dear God...I promise I will never, ever, ever get drunk again. Just please make him go away. Please God--_

The door swings open.

"Go away," I immediately croak. I can't look at him – I just know the disgust in his eyes would make me die of shame.

He doesn't listen, of course. When do men ever listen? Then next thing I know he's beside me, gathering up my hair, pulling it out of the way. He's saying something but I can't make it out over the pounding in my head and the turning of my stomach.

When the retches finally abate I sit there, on my knees, my arms still hugging the commode, and rest my head against the thankfully-clean porcelain. Edward begins to rub my back and it feels...good. I sigh. I'm too embarrassed to feel good about what he's doing. I wish he'd flush the toilet, ridding us of my first upheaval, but it doesn't happen; eventually my arm is flopping for the handle, ungracefully shoving it down and letting it clang back into place. The evidence of my shame swirls and disappears.

"You feel better?" he eventually asks. I want to snort at the question. No, never will I feel better about this moment.

I feel weak, shaky and sweaty, but no longer nauseous. "I'm okay," I mutter.

"I made you something," he says. I immediately think of food and feel sick at the thought.

"I don't want it," I groan.

"You don't even know what it is."

"I can't even look at food right now."

"It's not food," he says. "Well, not exactly." He stands up from the floor, pulls a hand towel from the cupboard and wets it in the sink. Suddenly, cool water is on my neck and that feels good, too. I moan in appreciation.

"You gonna camp out here for a while?" he asks. I still haven't moved from my toilet-hugging spot.

"I need a shower," I mumble, mostly to myself. I feel disgusting. I'm sure I look even worse, which is unsettling considering I'm sitting next to Mr. Sexy Sobriety over here.

"Okay, take your time," he says quickly. "You know where everything is?"

I hadn't meant to imply I wanted to use _his_ shower. It seems weird. I don't know him well enough, do I?

_Oh hell, Bella, it's not like he'll be joining you._

Though after his fiery kisses last night, that doesn't seem like such a horrible idea...

_Stop it, you floozy!_

I need a cold shower, stat. I manage to nod against the porcelain, to which Edward responds, "Alright, but you should really try to drink some water first. I'll go get your glass." I sit there, plastered to the toilet, until I hear him return and set the glass on the counter. The click of the bathroom door follows his retreat.

Throwing up made me feel a little better. I'm not nauseous anymore, at least. I brush my teeth and gulp half the glass of water before stripping and stepping into the shower. I try it cold at first, but that just seems torturous, so I quickly crank the heat and indulge under the hot water for the next twenty minutes. I use the shampoo and conditioner I found lurking in his cupboard, not bothering to put them back when I'm done. I figure the game is back on; there shall be no more cleaning for me.

When I'm done I poke my head out the door. Edward isn't anywhere in sight so I make a quick dash for the bedroom wrapped in nothing but a fluffy towel. When I'm safely inside I dress in my old clothes and brush my hair. I search for my cell phone for nearly five more minutes before finding it under the bed. _What the hell_? I'm not surprised to see there were a dozen drunken texts sent to Rosalie before I passed out.

What's more surprising is the half dozen or so missed calls from Alice. Persistent, much? I have a feeling Edward doesn't like the idea of us befriending each other...which is all the more reason to return the call. I quickly hit resend and wait.

"Bella!" she answers. "I've called you a million times. Are you okay?"

I cringe - her shrieking nearly splits my head open.

"I'm fine," I assure. "Could you speak a little lower? My head really hurts."

"Ooh," she says, lowering her voice. "You hungover?"

"You're not?" I ask in disbelief.

"A little," she admits. She doesn't sound hungover at all and I'm green with envy. "I don't get bad hangovers. Oh, but Jasper makes the best hangover remedies. I can give you the recipe real quick if you want. Or, ooh! I can come over and make one for you!" She sounds so excited, her voice rising to that head-exploding pitch again.

"Alice..." I groan.

"Whoops! Sorry!" This time she whispers. "Is Edward with you right now?"

For some unknown reason, hearing her whisper makes me want to whisper. It's funny how that is, but I match her tone when I reply, "No. He's downstairs."

"Did you just go to his house last night and pass out?"

I falter. "Um, something like that."

"I'm so sorry about last night, Bella. I had no idea you were blowing chunks in the bathroom."

I groan at the memory. In fifty years, I think I'll still look back on this day and be embarrassed.

"Don't remind me," I mutter pathetically.

"What are you guys doing today?" she whispers.

"I don't know. I've been throwing up all morning," I whisper back.

"You sure you don't want me to come make that remedy for you? I swear it works."

"Edward said he made me something. I'm not really sure it's a remedy, though..."

"His remedy won't be as good as mine," she says confidently.

"I'll be fine, Alice."

"You know, we're going out to dinner with Esme and Carlisle tonight. You should come!"

"When you say 'we' you mean..."

"Edward and I, of course."

Oh gosh. Edward will probably lose his shit if I accompany him to meet his family...which, ironically, makes the idea all that more enticing. This should really show him...

But I have my doubts, as well.

"I don't know, Alice," I say. "I don't know if Edward is ready for that."

Alice huffs into the phone. "He'll just have to get ready," she declares. "If we leave it up to him he'll probably never take the next step. Besides, _I'm_ inviting you."

"But I don't even have any clean clothes here. I live all the way in Seattle," I protest.

"Oh, don't worry. I still have a ton of clothes here. I'll bring something over this afternoon."

There's a sudden knock at the door, causing me to gasp before I hurriedly whisper, "Edward's knocking, I'll call you back," and hang up. I rush to the door and quickly swing it open. Edward's there in a long-sleeved, button-up, white shirt and blue jeans, his hair a disheveled mess. He sports a days worth of stubble and a yellowish, thick drink. I'm once again taken aback by just how handsome he is. I feel it's something I may never get used to.

"You okay in here?" he casually asks. "You've been a while."

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." I eye the drink warily, hoping it's not for me. But I know it is. "What's that?"

"Your new best friend," he replies, shoving it towards me. I immediately push it away, revolted by the idea.

"There's no way I can drink that," I protest.

"You sure are judgmental to have never tried it," he observes.

"I'll throw up again."

"Just taste it."

"No."

"Bella..."

God, I love it when he says my name. Especially when his tone is threatening.

"Fine, _one_ taste. If it's not good then I can't drink it. I don't think my stomach can take it."

"Just try it," he huffs. I slowly take it from his hand and smell it first, though I can't make much of that. It's blended, more watery than a smoothie. I take a small, tentative sip and it's actually...good. Very good!

My expression must give me away because Edward smirks, his eyes smoldering into mine. He looks pleased with himself.

"Like it?" he guesses. I decide not to play into his arrogance.

"It's okay," I agree, nonchalant. He responds with another knowing smirk and I get a sudden urge to toss the drink over my shoulder and leap on him like a depraved cave woman in heat. But of course that can't happen, so I hurriedly push that idea to the side. I realize we're still standing in the doorway and I suddenly feel awkward. Should I invite him inside? Into _his _guest bedroom?

He saves me the trouble. "Um, I have cereal and stuff downstairs if you want something else to eat." He suddenly looks as awkward as I feel and I surmise that this isn't a normal routine for him. How many girls get the pleasure of staying the night and joining him for brunch late the next morning?

"I'm fine," I assure. "I should probably take things slow for now." I tip my glass at him to indicate his concoction is more than enough. "What's in this thing, anyway?" I wonder.

"A blended banana, milk, and honey."

I quirk an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Pretty much."

"And it helps?"

"I think so. Tomato juice helps too, though I didn't think you'd appreciate the blend of banana, milk, and V8."

I nod. "Good thinking there, Eduardo." At the mention of his nickname he seems to relax.

The awkwardness follows us, swirling through the air, as we descend the stairs. I feel like an intruder in his home, one of those uninvited guests who just won't take a hint and leave. I wonder what he really thinks about me. Perhaps I annoy the living snot out of him; it would be a reasonable assumption considering all the things I've done so far.

My head is still hurting too bad for much scheming. I make myself comfortable on his couch and prop my feet on his coffee table – he stares at them a fraction of a second longer than necessary before silently looking elsewhere. I slowly sip my remedy, forcing myself to relax. I want to appear at ease, as if being in his home is more comfortable than being in my own.

I don't know if it's working or not. He disappears into the kitchen and I flip on the TV. A few minutes later he's plopping beside me on the couch with a sigh.

"So what are you doing today?" I casually ask.

He rubs a hand over his face. He looks tired. "I'm supposed to have dinner with the family tonight," he reveals. "With Alice." His eyes flicker to mine.

I wonder if I should tell him that Alice has invited me along. My heart begins to hammer as I weigh his possible reaction against my probable gains. I don't want him to flip out...I'm nervous.

I chicken out.

"That seems nice." I take a big sip of my remedy, trying to still my shaking hand before he notices. Why does he have such an effect on me? This is insane.

"Yeah," he agrees absentmindedly. "You two really seemed to get along." His observation seems to have a little more of a bite to it, though I wonder if I'm just imagining things.

"Who, me and Alice?" I ask innocently.

"Yes."

"Yes, she's very nice," I agree.

"What were you doing in Olympia last night?" he suddenly asks.

"Hanging out with Alice." _Obviously_.

"She called you?"

"She called me to apologize," I clarify.

"Apologize for what?"

"For calling me Lauren."

"Oh." That shuts him up real fast. _Ha! _Round one goes to Team Swan.

"Yeah, um...sorry I drunk dialed you," I awkwardly apologize. I still feel stupid, especially for vomiting in his ear. Then, like another round of hurling, I let loose a slew of words I should probably never reveal. "You know, when you hung up last night, I thought it was because I grossed you out. I thought you were like...tired of me, I guess."

Edward's surprised eyes meet mine. "I called Alice," he defends, as if I didn't know.

"I know."

"Bella, I don't think any man in their right mind could get tired of you," he says seriously. _Oh, make me blush, Mr. Eduardo._

I'm not sure if it's him or the bet speaking. A part of me doesn't want to know and cowers behind my awkward reply. "Um, thanks."

He puts his hand on my arm and I can feel that same...thrill...shoot through my skin, straight into my bones. It's a little tingle that causes my stomach to clench in a pleasurable way, an experience not relived since my cute eighth grade history teacher carried me to the office after I sprained my ankle tripping over Jessica Stanley's size ten hoof. A thought occurs to me all of a sudden and it comes as much of a relief as it is a surprise: I have a crush on Edward Cullen. _Holy shit_.

But any girl would, I reason. He's gorgeous, armed with a panty-dropping smile. Our poor little gender is quite defenseless against that kind of ammunition...alhough it's quite frightening, considering I know what he's capable of. Thank heavens Jacob heard them make the bet or else I'd be a goner. It seems he can charm the drawers right off the best of them.

"I'm serious," he goes on. "Never doubt yourself, Bella. Okay?" My response is a weak smile. His next question is uncertain. "Did you want to do something today?"

I've emptied my stomach, had my shower, and now I'm sitting on his couch sipping my remedy. He's wondering where we go from here, as am I.

I think for a moment, repeating my mantra. _What would Rose and Emmett do...What would Rose and Emmett do..._

God, I wish they were here to give me advice. I feel lost without those two conspirators shoving ideas at me every five seconds. Perhaps if I call Rose and update her she'll send me suggestions via text every so often.

But that will have to come later. Right now, my phone is upstairs, practically miles and miles away. Right now, I'm on my own.

"We could see a movie," I suggest. _Now what are those movies all men hate...aha! Chick flicks!_ "Oh! You know, I've been wanting to see _He's Just Not that into You _for a while." This is true; James would have fallen over dead before he went to see it and Rose and I simply haven't made the time.

Edward looks confused. "What's that one about?"

"Oh, it's about girls liking guys and not reading the signs that the guy isn't into them." Holy crap. I suddenly realize this is hitting a little too close to home for my liking. But wait, I'm not like them – I _know_ he's not into me. Right?

Edward scrunches his face – it would be an incredibly adorable gesture if I wasn't so worried about what he's thinking – and agrees. "Okay."

"Great. Let me go grab my phone and I'll call and see what time it plays." I'm flying up the stairs before he can protest, anxious to call Rose.

In the safe confines of the bedroom I dial her number, then quickly hang up the phone. _Crap_! What if he hears me talking to her? That won't do... I type out a quick text instead.

_Mayday mayday – I'm in the lion's den. What do I do? - B_

I call information and get the number for the theater. After I've determined its playing times I check my messages. Not surprisingly, I have a message from Emmett instead of Rose. Jesus, does she go anywhere without him now?

_Have you slept with him? - Em_

_No! Are you kidding me? - B_

_Why else would you spend the night at his house? - Em_

_How do you know I spent the night? - B_

_I'm Confucius, remember? All-knowing. - Em_

I shake my head. That girl can't keep her mouth shut for anything in the world. I'm surprised she hasn't broadcast everything to Edward at this point.

_So what are you doing? Do you have the cat? - Em_

_No, Emmett. I told you I'm not getting a cat. - B_

_We'll discuss that later. For now leave some girly shit in his bathroom. The nastier the better. - Em_

_Nasty?? - B_

_You know...girly shit. - Em_

_I'm telling Rose you said that. - B_

_She's sitting right here. - Em_

_Then tell her useless ass to text me back. - B_

_She said her useless ass nails are drying. - Em_

_Pfft..._useless nails is right. I've never understood her obsession with those things.

_Alice invited me to dinner with the family tonight. - B_

_Holy shit that's GENIUS. What do you even need me for? - Em_

_I believe I texted Rose, not you. - B_

_Does Edward know you're going? - Em_

_Umm...no. So you think I should go? - B_

_Hell yes I do. - Em_

_Should I be scared? - B_

A knock at the door causes me to jump. Holy cow...I completely lost track of time! He probably suspects I'm hugging the commode again. I quickly put my phone on vibrate, slip it into my back pocket, and open the door.

"Hey," I greet. I feel breathless and I'm not sure why...I guess all the scheming and plotting leaves me feeling mentally spent.

"Hey," Edward repeats. "You okay? You're not sick again, are you?"

_I knew it_.

"No, I'm fine. I was just thinking. The movie starts at two o'clock; if we hurry we can make it."

---

We load into his car. I feel dirty in my old clothes, swearing I can smell cigarette smoke in the fabric. That's _real_ attractive, I think sarcastically. And the heels hurt my already sore feet – I usually avoid the things if I can help it.

But alas, there's nothing I can do about it now. I hope Alice brings me something more comfy for tonight. I still haven't told Edward she's coming over...or that I'm coming to dinner. Oh dear. I get nervous at the thought.

"I'll take you to pick up your car after the movie," Edward offers. I quickly nod.

"Okay." A silence settles between us. It's not uncomfortable. It's not comfortable. It just...is. And I don't like it. "Tell me something about yourself," I prompt.

Edward glances at me. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Anything." I shrug. "I feel like I don't know anything about you." He shifts in his seat, appearing uncomfortable. I decide to start him off light. "What's your favorite color?"

He looks at me questioningly. "Um, blue, I guess."

"Great. What's your favorite movie?"

He thinks about it. "I don't think I have one," he eventually admits.

"What? How can you not have one?"

"I don't watch many movies."

"Well surely there are some you like."

"I haven't really thought about which one's my favorite."

"Well think about it now," I huff teasingly. He smiles at my manner.

"Too hard, sorry," he says, but he doesn't really look sorry. "I always liked _The Pianist_."

"_The Pianist_? Haven't seen it," I admit.

"Really? We should rent it. It's about a Jewish pianist who struggles to survive in World War II."

"Sounds sad."

"It is."

"I don't like sad movies."

Stopped at a red light, he looks at me. "Then what movies do _you_ like, Ms. Swan?"

It takes me only a second to respond. "There are lots of them. Some people think some of them are stupid but, hell, they're entertaining. They make me laugh." I glace over; Edward's eyes are trained on the road again, yet they flicker quickly to meet mine.

"Name some," he prompts.

"_Super Troopers. Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Old School. The Big Lebowski_."

Edward grins. "You like _The Big Lebowski_?"

"_The Big Lebowski_ _owns_ me," I confess.

"I never realized that movie attracted the ladies."

"Have you seen it?"

"Pieces."

"_What?_ Pieces? You mean to say you've never watched the whole movie? Alright, stop the car right now," I shout. Edward looks puzzled. "Are you listening to me? Turn around!"  
"But what about the movie?"

"We're renting _The Big Lebowski_. It's a tragedy that you haven't already seen it. Luckily, I have the means to correct this little blasphemy."

"But--" Edward looks torn. I'm taking away his control, just bossing him around like I own the day. I'm sure he doesn't know what to think.

I'm all keyed up now, drunk on my miniscule bit of power. "No buts. Now turn this thing around before I come over the console."

Edward seems uncertain. Then, my threat registering, he grins. "Come over the console, huh?"

I giggle and roll my eyes. "Perv. Where's the nearest movie place?"

"I don't know," he says innocently. "I think I may have forgotten..."

I narrow my eyes at him. "If you value your life you'll soon remember," I threaten.

"Or what? More coming over the console?"

"Why haven't you turned around yet?"

"There's traffic, Bella! I can't just whip out in front of everyone."

"You're worse than my grandma, I swear. Just wedge out and everyone will stop."

"Are you crazy?"

"Crazy for _The Big Lebowski_. Look, an opening! Go, go, g_o!!!" _Edward sits there looking utterly bemused. The opening comes and goes, the opportunity waving as it kicks dust in our faces. "What are you doing?" I cry.

"Bella," Edward says calmly, as though he's addressing a child, "I'm not gonna get killed over _The Big Lebowski_."

"Well just so we're clear, if there's ever a movie worth dying over it's that one."

"Is that right?"

"Absolutely."

"So does this mean you'll watch _The Pianist_?"

"What? No."

"Hey, I'm watching _The Big Lebowski._.."

"I told you I don't like sad movies," I protest.

"But it's a _good _movie."

"Will you rub my back?"

Edward looks at me curiously. "Seriously?"

I reach behind and rub my shoulder for affect, scrunching my nose to emphasize its soreness. "It hurts," I pout. So do my feet – perhaps I can get those rubbed as well.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes briefly meeting mine. They're so deep, so intense. So full of...something. They capture my gaze, puncturing my defenses from the inside-out. I feel raw and exposed while in their rapture.

Biting my lip, I look away. Edward gives a small sigh, the sound barely heard in the small confines of the car.

"You'll watch _The Pianist_?"

I nod, because I will. I would've done it anyway, probably, just to gain an understanding of one of his favorite movies, but at least this way I'll get a freebie out of it. I can't help but be surprised again and again at my own level of genius.

---

We split up at the movie store, me in search of _The Big Lebowski_, Edward in search of _The Pianist_. The movies aren't well organized and it takes me forever to find it. When it's in my hands I look over to see Edward is still mulling over a selection. I browse through some other comedies, wondering if there's anything I've forgotten.

I find _Office Space_, another must-see. I'm not sure if Edward has seen it, but I feel it's something he can appreciate since he works at an office. I gather them up and carry them over.

"Watcha looking at?" I ask. He's got _The Pianist_ in one hand, an unidentified movie in another. He quickly puts it back on the shelf when he's sees I'm done.

"Nothing, just browsing. You ready?"

"Sure. Have you seen _Office Space_?"

Edward frowns, taking the movie from me and examining its cover. "Nope."

I give a huge, exaggerated sigh. "Good Lord, Eduardo. You've been deprived – what did you do before you met me? Even if we don't get to it today you have to _promise_ me you'll watch it soon."

"You know, I'm not sure I really have time to watch every comedy ever made," he lightly argues.

"There are some things, such as the comedic genius crammed into these two little discs, that you simply _make_ time for." I hold up both movies to make my point.

"Then I get to pick another one, too," he declares. Without waiting for my response he stalks off, already on the prowl. I sigh and follow. After a few minutes of browsing he asks, "How do you feel about Stephen King?"

I frown. "I don't like scary movies."  
With a questioning glance Edward says, "So let me get this straight...you _only_ like a movie if it's full of fart jokes and one-liners."

I gasp. "These movies _do not_ have fart jokes!"

"You need to branch out," he says.

"I like happy movies." I'm pouting again.

"A little variety never killed anyone. Here," he plucks a movie from the shelf, "this one isn't very scary. _The Green Mile_. It's good."

"What's it about?" I glance at the cover, noticing Tom Hanks. I realize this one may not be so bad as I recall some of his good movies.

"It's about a group of prison guards who work on death row."

I wrinkle my nose. "Sounds serious."

He takes the movies from me with a knowing smirk. I have a sudden urge to suck the grin off his face, but I wisely reign control over my sporadic hormones. Throwing myself at him once was humiliating; doing it again in less than twenty-four hours is just plain whorish.

"Guess you'll have to watch and see," he replies, and together we head for the check-out.

We agree to get my car and fall into easy conversation on the way there. We discuss the movies a bit more and then I ask Edward if he knows Alice's boyfriend, Jasper, to which he reveals that they've met a few times over holiday dinners. I watch him as he speaks of Alice, noting a concealed fondness for his sister. It's obvious she loves him as well, and I ponder the true extent of their relationship. They're a few years apart – were they close growing up? Of course, their mother died, forcing them to live with their godparents when they were children. Perhaps they bonded during that hard time.

I fleetingly wonder what happened to Edward's father. Neither he nor Alice ever mention him. Perhaps they never knew him.

I realize I don't know anything about this man sitting beside me. He's a mystery, a pretty box with a pretty bow – but what's inside? Will I ever unwrap the exterior, revealing the true gift beneath? I don't get my hopes up; as much as I'd love to unravel the mystery, I know our time is limited. Eventually, the truth will be revealed. Eventually, playtime will be over.

We part ways briefly once we reach my car. I follow him to his house and realize I'm famished. All traces of nausea are gone and my headache is much less severe.

He exits his car, quickly leaning back inside to retrieve the four movies. I watch his movements, noting the way his shirt hugs the taut muscle of his back. How is it possible for someone to look so incredibly...delicious? Everything about him is pure perfection. He's beautiful.

He allows me to enter the house first, placing his hand on the small of my back. The tingle commences, electrifying my whole body, awakening every cell and fiber of my being.

"You want me to make us something for lunch?" I offer. Edward looks horrified for a moment, as though the idea causes him real, physical pain. I'm sure he's remembering the state of his kitchen from the other night.

"I'll make us something," he quickly assures. "Why don't you go put the movie in?"  
"_The Big Lebowski_?"

"Sure."

"Okay." He disappears into the kitchen and I make my way to the entertainment stand. A quick peek at his CD collection reveals everything has been reorganized as before. I roll my eyes – how long does he spend making sure everything is just so? Too long, I reason, but I let it be this time, fearing my demise should I mess with his collection again.

"Is a sandwich okay?" he calls from the kitchen.

"Uh, sure."

"What do you like on it?"

"What do you have?"

I pop the movie in while he lists a slew of toppings. Unable to remember them all, I make my way into the kitchen. He's at the counter, a cutting board and a pile of food holding his attention; he doesn't hear me enter and for a moment I just watch him, noting the way his muscles stretch and tighten when he reaches for something, the way his bum looks in his jeans. It's very nice...

Suddenly he turns, my name halfway out his lips, and jumps when he sees me standing there. "Christ!" he exclaims. "What are you doing?"

I feign innocence. There's no way I will ever admit I was just ogling him from the doorway. "Coming to see what you're doing. The movie's in." He smirks but I ignore it and approach him, standing only inches away.

"What do you want on your sandwich?"

I pick and choose from the ingredients spread out before us, eventually jumping in to help. I'm dismayed when I discover he doesn't have any chips.

"Chips are unhealthy," is his excuse.

"So?"

"So I try not to keep that stuff in the house."

"Then what do you snack on?"

"I don't know. I don't snack a lot. I have fruit," he explains, "and popcorn for the movie."

"So you think popcorn is healthy?" I ask doubtfully.

"It is if it's not buttered."

I'm shocked. "You bought _unbuttered_ popcorn?" My mouth is hanging open, a classic fly-trap. Edward grins at me, though I'm not sure what's so funny about this atrocity. No snacks? _Unbuttered _popcorn? _Seriously_?

Is this why he's so beautiful? The lack of trans fat? It's something to think about, for sure.

"You'd be surprised at how much better you feel when you eat healthy," he informs me. He's clearly amused at my lack of understanding, at my utter bewilderment.

"I feel just fine," I argue.

"Do you?"

"Well, maybe not _today_," I emphasize, recalling my horrible hangover, "but every other day I do."

He eventually points me in the direction of the butterless popcorn and I rummage in his cupboard until I find a bag. Sticking it in the microwave, I watch it like a hawk until it's nearly done popping. I have a bad habit of allowing popcorn to burn. Afterward, I help Edward put everything away before scooping up my drink, sandwich, and bag of popcorn and carrying all three into the living room without a backward glance. I can feel his eyes following me the whole way out.

I make myself comfortable on the couch, kicking off those pesky heels and tucking my feet beneath my body. I know Edward won't like me eating in the living room again, especially without his permission, but I figure that's the whole point. If I tiptoe around him then why am I even here?

He walks in silently, plunking down beside me on the couch with great gusto. I'm surprised when he doesn't say anything.

My mouth opens – I'm just itching to say something, yearning to get a response out of him – but I quickly close it again. I don't feel like eliciting a bicker. Not now. Silently, I grab the remote and start the movie.

"You're gonna love this," I promise. "John Goodman's character is hilarious."

He nods. "I'm looking forward to it." Together, we chew our sandwiches, staring at the screen in silence. The opening credit shows nothing but a tumbleweed rolling around whilst the narrator speaks; Edward watches it impassively for a few moments before he smirks. "Wow, that tumbleweed is hilarious," he teases. I smack his arm.

"Sshhhh! You have to listen."

The movie stretches on. Edward makes teasing comments every now and then, but soon I catch him laughing. "The word _fuck_ is gonna be hardwired into my vocabulary when this is over," he says dryly.

"I know. Isn't it great?"

He chances a glance in my direction, not turning his head entirely, but his knowing smile is still obvious. He's enjoying the movie. And why wouldn't he? It's fucking awesome.

Yes, that word is going to be hardwired into my vocabulary, too.

We share the popcorn as we watch, the bag wedged between our bodies as a buffer of sorts. Every time my hand grazes his that same familiar thrill shoots through my arm, spreading through my body, settling inside my core. I want to kiss him again, to feel his lips on mine, his breath on my skin, but I don't dare. But I wonder why _he_ doesn't kiss _me_ and eventually placate myself with the theory that he may just not be affectionate. I suppose being unaffectionate and unwilling to commit go hand in hand.

Halfway through the movie, the doorbell rings. I'm puzzled at first and then suddenly my whole body seizes up in alarm.

Alice. With the clothes. _Oh shit_!

Edward pauses the movie, grumbles, "Who the fuck could that be?" - the movie is having a profound effect on us both - and gets up to answer the door. My heart beats against my chest like a jackhammer and I'm sure it's gonna burst right out of my body.

Oh God. She's going to tell him I'm coming. He's going to flip. There goes _The Big Lebowski._..goodbye, The Dude, goodbye. I have half a mind to flee through the back door before either of them return. But alas, I'm frozen on the couch, paralyzed in my consternation.

Alice, as fresh and bright-eyed as the spring, comes bounding into the room carrying a bag. She's all smiles as her eyes zero in on me on the couch.

"Bella! You look like you're feeling better," she announces. Edward follows her into the room, his hand tugging at his hair – an endearing habit I've only just begun to notice.

"Um, yeah. I do." My voice is small. I assume she hasn't told him yet – he appears much too calm.

"Here's the clothes," she says, dumping the bag in my lap. "I brought a few tops and bottoms in case you didn't like what I picked out. But there's a dress that's gonna look incredible on you. I think everything should fit."

"Alice," says Edward, "we're just watching some movies. I don't think she really needs a dress for that."

Alice raises her eyes to meet his. To be so tiny, she holds herself tall and strong; she appears larger than life in that moment.

"Of course not, Edward. I invited her to dinner with us tonight." Her green eyes flicker to meet my wide, brown, horrified ones. "Didn't she tell you?"

* * *

I just love me a good cliffe.

Seen _The Big Lebowski _yet? Go watch it. _Now_. One of the funniest movies _ever_. Along with _Office Space_.

Sorry the updates are coming slower. I'm trying to stay faithful to my once a week promise...hell, if I got paid to write this fic I'd totally do it all day long. But you know...gotta eat and stuff...pay that mortgage...get that education....you guys understand...I hope. But BTW, for all of you who wanted longer chapters, this one is the longest yet at over 7K, so that's another reason why it took a little more time to get out.

Thanks to ms_ambrosia for betaing and all my readers and reviewers. I just love knowing what you think so please don't be shy...even if you hate it, I wear big-girl panties for a reason.

I put all the links on my profile to save myself some time. Go check it out. And if you were following my other story I have a note about that there, too (Just please don't hate me).

Until next time,

mybluesky


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Sixteen

EPOV

I blink at Alice, sure I've misunderstood her. "You did what?"

"I invited her to dinner. I'm not going to be in town long and I wanted to get to know her some more before I left. I brought some clothes so she won't have to drive all the way back to Seattle just for something clean to wear." Alice says this as though we're having the most natural conversation in the world. My eyes fall on Bella, who's regarding me with wide, wary eyes. "Right, Bella?" Alice seeks her confirmation on the matter. This only seems to unnerve Bella more.

"Um, yeah," she mutters. She looks at me. "Sorry, I completely forgot to mention it..."

"Oh, don't be sorry," Alice interrupts. I'm aghast, unable to believe this is really happening. Are these girls conspiring against me?

"You don't mind, do you, Edward?" Bella asks, her tone uncertain.

What can I possibly say to that? _Of course I mind, Bella. I can think of nothing worse in the entire universe than having you accompany me to a family dinner. Well, except for this whole little bet thing I've forgotten to tell you about..._

Yeah, that would go over real well. I tug my hair, certain this woman is going to drive me bald.

Alice speaks before I have the chance. "Why would he mind?" She looks from me to Bella in question.

"I don't mind," I finally answer. Bella doesn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I say quickly, and then I repeat Alice's earlier question. "Why would I mind? Of course you can come."

I replay the statement in my head, hoping to let it sink in. Hoping to find some truth in the words.

But I _do_ mind. I've _never_ brought a girl home to meet Esme and Carlisle. And Bella, well, she's an incredible girl – I can think of no one better to bring home - but I've still only known her for a week. That's not even taking into consideration what will happen if she learns the truth of our relationship.

Holy fuck, I think I need a drink - my life is becoming a soap opera.

Alice bounces over to Bella. "Come on, let's go change and make sure all the clothes fit." Bella looks at me again, still wary, and I force a smile to reassure her that everything is fine. They disappear up the stairs, Alice chattering madly about one of the dresses she brought.

When I hear the door close upstairs, I release a suppressed sigh. I want to call Emmett but I already know what he'll say: "What's the problem, man? You obviously like her. It's about time you brought a girl home for dinner...for fuck's sake, your folks just _have_ to think you're gay by now."

Emmett has never approved of my behavior. He loves women, cherishing them, never showing blatant disrespect. Until now, I'd like to think I never have, either, although some would disagree. But everything has been consensual; I've never pressured anyone into doing something they didn't want to do. I'd never pressure Bella, either...

But I'd lie to her. I'd lie and tell her things she wants to hear, things to make her blush. I'd tell her things that leave her wanting more, _aching_ for more...

And that's disrespectful.

I enter the kitchen, shaking my head in forlorn realization. Perhaps I should just tell her. Perhaps, tonight, I will.

I pour a small glass of brandy and swallow it down, not enough to get drunk, but hopefully enough to take the edge off. I find my phone and notice I have a missed call from Esme. When did it ring?

She left a message. "Edward, honey, call me back when you get this. Alice told me you have a friend coming for dinner and I just...gosh, honey, I don't even have words right now. I'm just _so _anxious to meet this lucky girl..."

Jesus, this isn't good. Alone, in my living room, I call her back. I can't hear a sound from upstairs no matter how hard I strain.

"Edward!" she gushes. "Is it true, honey? Are you bringing someone?"

"Esme..."

"Oh, don't worry, Edward. Of course I won't embarrass you!" As if _that's_ the extent of my worries.

"No, it's not that."

"What is it, then? Is she still coming?"

"Yes, she's coming."

"She likes Hibachi, right? Alice wants to go to that little restaurant downtown where they cook the food in front of you."

I have no idea whether or not she likes Hibachi and I find the thought unsettling. Why do I yearn to know such trivial things about her? It shouldn't matter whether I know her favorite foods and yet, for some reason, it does.

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "I've never asked."

"Oh, well ask her!" Her tone is scolding. "If she doesn't like it I'm sure Alice won't mind eating somewhere else. For heaven's sake she eats _everything_ in sight. How she stays so little is beyond me."

"Okay, Esme. I'll ask."

"Good. Is Alice over there?"

"Yes."

"Well tell her to go easy on the poor girl. You know how overbearing your sister can be sometimes."

_Don't I know it._

"Don't worry, Esme. They seem to really be...hitting it off." God, what an understatement.

"Alright, honey. I'm glad to hear that. Just call me if there's a problem with the Hibachi."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Well I'll see you in a little while. Bye, hon."

Without Esme's sweet, motherly voice in my ear, the silence returns, cold and harsh and unwelcoming. The girls are still upstairs, doing God-knows what, and I can't hear a peep from them. I have an overwhelming desire to sneak upstairs and check on them but I refrain, recognizing girl-time when I see it. If I learned one thing growing up, it was that you never crossed Alice during girl-bonding time; hot irons and tweezers make for some lethal ammunition.

I sigh and resume the movie, figuring I can watch a bit more to pass the time. It's actually very entertaining, though not something I expected Bella to recommend. It's strange, but I find myself drawn to her unpredictability.

I try to focus on the movie – I try really fucking hard, in fact – but it's useless. My mind is swimming. Most of the time I spend staring at the screen, seeing but not absorbing the scenes, my thoughts just one overlapping picture onto another.

The movie finishes and starts over. I can't help but smirk as I see the tumbleweed again, imagining Bella sitting here beside me. Then a door slams upstairs, causing me to jump.

Alice comes trotting down the stairs, her heels clicking on the steps like a pair of castanets.

"Hey," she says dismissively, not even allowing me to respond before she slips into the kitchen. "I'm getting something to drink."

I get up and follow her, finding her front end buried in the refrigerator when I enter the room. I cross my arms, hoping to convey the seriousness that negates this situation.

"Alice," I say, keeping my voice even, "what the fuck is going on?"

She straightens and glances over her shoulder at me, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you made pretty quick work of making Bella your new best friend. You could have at least let me introduce you to her first."

The door to the fridge slams with a little more force than necessary. "I don't see what's wrong with being friends with someone," she says curtly.

"It seems like you're going out of your way is all."

"Would you rather me be mean to her?"  
"You've never made such an effort with anyone else."

"Yeah, well, there was never a point with anyone else. I'm not big on wasting my time. You know that." With that cryptic message she slips past me, the drink clutched tightly in her talon.

And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?

"What are you talking about?" I call after her.

"If you can't see it, Edward, then you're blind. But it's something you have to figure out for yourself. You'll appreciate it more once you do."

Click click click click. She disappears up the stairs, leaving me even more frustrated than before. Another small glass of brandy follows; I eventually sneak upstairs, past the bedroom – I can hear muffled words and giggling inside – to get dressed. I splash my face with cold water and attempt to tame my wild hair, though my efforts are usually futile. When I'm finished I start some music and return to the couch, hoping to let the soothing words distract me and pass the time.

I'm not sure how much time has passed before I hear more movement upstairs. It could have been ten minutes; it could have been an hour. It felt like an eternity. I straighten on the couch, that spot at the top of the staircase – the spot where one of the girls would first be seen – holding my undivided attention.

I hear their voices before I see them; they're chattering on and on about something or another, words which jumble and become foreign in my ears. Then they simultaneously appear at the top of the stairs, Alice smiling, Bella unnaturally grim. . They descend the stairs together and I rise to meet them.

My breath hitches at the sight of Bella. She's not just pretty anymore - she's..._gorgeous_. She's wearing a simple, deep blue dress that enhances all her curves, the hem falling just above the knees and the top cut to show only the barest hint of cleavage. Her hair, always shiny, falls in big ringlets at her back. Her skin seems to glow, silky and soft, just _aching_ to be rubbed, to be touched. To be worshiped. Her wide, expressive eyes are brighter than ever as they regard me with a mix appreciation and pain. I can only imagine what Alice put her through up there.

"Look, Edward," Alice announces excitedly, "she fit into my lucky dress!"

My eyes snap to hers in surprise. "Lucky dress?"

Bella rolls her eyes as she closes the distance between us. "It's the dress she met Jasper in," she explains. "And _only_ met him in...I think." She whispers the last words with a worried look.

"Wow. I'm surprised she took it down from its shrine."

"It was hard," Alice agrees, "but it was for a good cause, so it's worth it."

For a good cause? What the hell is with her and these weird ass comments? I push it from my mind and return my gaze to Bella. There simply aren't words for what I want to say to her right now.

"You look...I mean...wow. You look incredible."

She blushes, soothing an invisible line in her dress. Then she leans in, so close I can smell the fragrant scent of her hair, and whispers, "You have _no_ idea what I went through up there." She completes the comment with a knowing glare, as though I had thrown her to the wolf.

Alice takes a phone call, not paying us a bit of attention.

"Sorry. We can create a distress code next time," I blurt without thinking.

Bella looks surprised. "Next time?"

"Um, well...you know. You never can tell with Alice." I stumble like a fool through my response, but rather than flounder over the topic Bella begins pulling at my collar, smoothing it flat against my chest.

"You look good in this color," she remarks about my dark green shirt. I hadn't even paid attention to what I'd thrown on. "It brings out your eyes."

"I could say the same of your dress."

She scoffs. "My eyes are brown."

"So?"

"So...no one wants to enhance _that_ color."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bella. Your eyes are beautiful."

She looks doubtful, but before she can reply Alice is hovering back towards us. Bella removes her hands from my collar and lowers her gaze.

"Bella, how do you feel about Hibachi?" Alice asks.

"Oh, um, I love Hibachi."

"Great! We're going to this place called Fuji Steakhouse. It's _so_ good! Do you eat sushi?"

"Yeah, sushi's great."

Alice's eyes light up like a child on Christmas as she takes my forearm in a death grip. "I _knew_ it!" she gushes. Bella looks alarmed. "Edward used to always whine that no one else likes sushi," she explains, "but now he has like...a sushi compadre."

Alice gets excited over the strangest things. Bella's puzzled eyes meet mine and I give a small shrug, silently communicating that I don't know what the fuck she's talking about either.

"Oh, well, that's great," Bella says uncertainly.

"Just wait until you see this place," Alice rambles on. "It has a fish aquarium in the _floor_!"

"Really?"

"Yep. It's incredible. The floor is clear and you just walk right over it."

"Is it glass?"

"Nah, I think it's plastic. It looks really cool though. Doesn't it, Edward?"

I'm surprised at suddenly being addressed. "Um, yeah. It's really nice."

Both girls nod as though I've given great insight on the matter.

"Alright, I gotta run," says Alice. "I need to go change real quick and then we'll meet you guys there. At six, right?"

"Right," I agree, and with one final ado, she slips out the front door. Bella and I are left standing there, an awkward air filling the three inch gap between our bodies. She looks up at me guiltily.

_Yeah, that's right, Bella. You know what you did._

"On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you right now?" she asks.

_What the fuck?_

"I really don't know what I'm feeling, to be perfectly honest. But whatever it is I'd say....an eight."

"An eight?" Her eyes widen. "That's pretty high." I nod. "We're saying a ten is the maddest you've ever been in your whole life," she clarifies.

"Bella, what are you getting at?"

"It's not too late for me to go home," she rambles. "Alice just kind of asked me all of a sudden and I didn't really have time to think about it...then you told me you'd never seen _The Big Lebowski_ and that just kind of shocked every other rational thought right out of me. I should have told you..."

"Yeah, it would have been nice," I state.

"Sorry. I know it's a huge thing for you..."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't bring women home."

"You're at my home right now."

"You know what I mean."

"What makes you think that?" I'm genuinely curious.

She looks flustered. "Um, well...Alice sort of said something I guess..."

I sigh. _Jesus Christ_. "Is there anything she _hasn't _told you about me?" I ask, a bit too harshly, I surmise, for Bella instantly looks put-out.

"No. I mean yes. I mean, how should I know?" When I don't respond she says, "I can still go home if you want me to." She's irritated now. "I wouldn't want to _impose _myself upon your family."

"It's not imposing if you were invited, Bella." I'm equally irritated. In what universe does the sister invite the girlfriend over for the initial meeting of the parents? Then I blanch, completely caught off guard by my thoughts. _Girlfriend?_

This is all getting to be too confusing. I can't get one thought in proper order before I'm bombarded with a million others.

Luckily, Bella doesn't seem to notice my internal panic. "Well you obviously don't want me to come."

_Fuck fuck shit shit_. "I never said that."

"It was implied." She crosses her arms defiantly.

"If I didn't want you to come then I'd tell you to go home."

"If you were that rude then I'd probably come anyway, just to spite you."

_Jesus Christ, woman!_ "What do you want me to say, Bella? Yes, this is new for me. You'll be the first girl I've _ever _introduced to Esme and Carlisle. So I'm sorry if I'm not living up to these great standards you have set against me." I'm sure the irritation is coming off of me in palpable waves.

"I don't have _standards_ set against you," she snarkily replies. "All I ask is that you show me an ounce of honesty. Just one little ounce. I'm tired of all these fucking guessing games."

"Honestly? Things are moving kind of fast for me," I reply. Why am I such a fucking coward?

"See? That wasn't so hard. So do you want me to go or not? Honestly."

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I should, in all honesty, tell her now, before she meets my family. If I tell her I don't want her meeting them then she probably won't come back. If I let her go, then that means I lose the bet. If I lose the bet...

Her phone suddenly rings, knocking me out of my reverie. She pulls it from her purse and shoots me an apologetic look. "It's my mom," she explains. "I'll be just a second." She answers and slips out of the room while I release I heavy, suppressed sigh.

I'll just take her to dinner. I'll see where things go and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to think about things tonight. I can confront this mess tomorrow. I haven't had time to sit down and think since this whole thing has happened anyway. Bella has been in my life much more than I ever expected.

She re-enters the room looking rejuvenated, as though positively affected by the talk with her mother. "Sorry about that," she says. "She just goes on and on sometimes."

I wave off her apology. "It's not a problem."

"So, did you decide?"

"Yes. I want you to come to dinner with me tonight, Bella. I'm sorry I'm such a dick about things."

She looks surprised as she takes a step closer. I'm close enough to kiss her; I _want_ to kiss her. But if there's one thing I don't deserve, it's her. Not her mouth, her taste, or her smell. Not even her attention, and most certainly not her kisses or affection.

"You know, as new as all this is to you, you're not doing so bad," she offers. "And I know I kind of threw myself at you last night. I wasn't really thinking, but – for what it's worth – thank you for not taking advantage of that."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "Bella, you were wasted," I remind her. Does she really think I would've had sex with her while she was inebriated that way?

"I know," she says simply. She checks the time on her phone. "Anyway, we probably better leave soon, huh? Maybe when we get back we can watch one of your movies. If it's not too late."

More time spent with her means less time to think, but as she gazes up at me with those wide, innocent eyes, I find myself unable to refuse. "Sure, Bella." _Whatever you want._

---

Everyone is already waiting when we arrive at the restaurant. Alice hops up to meet us before we even make it through the foyer; linking her arm through Bella's she says, "Good, you're here! Come look at the fish!" They migrate to the transparent bridge, their heels clicking on the plastic as they stare at the creatures swimming below.

Esme is bemused by the time we make it to the table. "Alice, at least let her sit down first," she scolds. She and Carlisle stand to greet us, both smiling warmly at Bella, who blushes and looks uncomfortable in return.

"Bella, it's so nice to meet you," Carlisle greets, giving her hand a firm shake. Esme takes us both by surprise by wrapping her in a hug - I've never seen her so affectionate with anyone who isn't family.

"Um, it's nice to meet you, too," Bella stutters. Everyone is all smiles, their attention locked on the flushing brown-haired beauty at our table. No one has even acknowledged that I'm here. Bella is clearly uncomfortable.

"Alice has already told us a lot about you. She already seems quite taken with you. I'll admit I was a little surprised when she said you were coming..." Esme's eyes flicker to mine and I suppress a groan. "But I can't say I'm not pleased. So how did you two meet?"

Bella looks to me uncertainly, as if worried she'll say the wrong thing. In a sudden, bold swing of confidence she says, "Well it was at this nice little place in Seattle. He asked me to dance." She purposely omits that we met at a club.

"Oh yes, Edward's always been fond of dancing. Of all music, really. Have you heard him play the piano?"

Bella's attention is instantly captured. "No, why? Is he good?" Again, it's like I'm not here. It's already looking to be a _long_ night.

I hastily clear my throat. "Esme, she doesn't want to hear about that."

"Nonsense, Edward. She asked, didn't she?"

Before I can argue the server arrives to take our drink order, creating a pause in the conversation, but as soon as he leaves they pick up as though there was never an interruption. Esme leans in close to Bella as if sharing a secret – as if they're already the best of friends.

"He's always been modest about his playing," she goes on, "but you should hear him. It's incredible."

"Yeah, he composes, too," supplies Alice, and Bella's eyebrows immediately shoot to her hairline.

Carlisle, as if sensing my distress, leans over and whispers, "They'll go in for the kill eventually. The pack is increasing in numbers."

The women ramble on and on as though we men are not even here; between Esme and Alice, Bella doesn't have a spare moment to think. My discomfort seems to mount with each little aspect of my life they reveal, yet I manage to smile calmly at Bella every time she glances my way.

I eventually manage to capture her attention. "Did you want some sushi, Bella?" At the mention of sushi, Alice looks like she's going to swoon right out of her seat. What's with her?

"Oh, sure," Bella says. She leans in closer to peruse the menu and I get a whiff of her perfume. "What do you like?" She's so close, _so_ close...my grip on the pencil tightens.

"I like most all of it," I say, "but you can order whatever you want."

She leans in even closer, her eyes searching mine, and our shoulders brush. "Can I just have a few pieces of yours?" she asks sweetly.

Sharing sushi: a first for me. _Another_ first for me, as this whole week has been nothing but one first after a fucking other. Why stop now?

"Of course you can."

Satisfied, she smiles and leans back, and I exhale a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. _Fuck_. Why does her close proximity make me feel this way? Unnerved, I grab my water and take a large swallow. I realize Alice is watching us with rapt attention; I frown and quickly look away.

The server comes to take our orders and pick up the sushi selections. Another couple is seated with us around the Hibachi grill, their seats in the corner. They're young and fresh and obviously in love; with shy smiles they say hello before taking their seats, their chairs squashed together with hardly an inch of space between.

Our soup and salads are brought out as Esme continues the Spanish Inquisition on poor Bella. I find myself pitying her, not having realized how strenuous this whole meet-the-parents process must be. Luckily, she manages to take it all in stride, answering the bombardment of questions with an endearing hint of bashfulness and assurance. Esme is just eating her up, positively glowing in adoration.

Eventually, during one of Esme's rare inhalations, Carlisle manages to squeeze in a question. "So where do you work, Bella?"

"The Seattle Times," she answers automatically. Carlisle cocks a curious eyebrow, intrigued.

"Oh? What do you do there?"

Bella unleashes a well-rehearsed take on her job description until interrupted by the arrival of the Chef. Chef Ken, as he introduces himself, asks us how we want our steak cooked. When his eyes fall to Bella he smiles.

"How pretty girl want chicken?"

Bella is taken aback at being addressed so. "Umm..."

"Rare? Okay!" He smiles widely, obviously pleased at his attempt of humor. Bella flushes – she still appears nervous – and Esme and Carlisle smile and chuckle warmly at her reaction.

After a beat Chef Ken goes on. "Pretty girl, where your husband? You too pretty to be alone..." He appears to just see me with exaggerated shock. "Oh! You husband! You need to keep firm hand on pretty girl before she gets away! Lots of men going to snatch pretty girl up!"

_Husband_? Bella's face darkens and I find myself equally uncomfortable. Carlisle and Esme are thoroughly enjoying his little show, however, and Alice leans over and loudly whispers, "I think someone has a crush on Bella!" She gestures to the chef as though the reference isn't obvious.

Chef Ken hears her. "Oh! I make valentine for my crush!" He whips up a heart shaped out of onions and sets it on fire, causing a heart-shaped flame to appear. "Onion better than chocolate!"

Bella smiles and giggles despite her embarrassment. She meets my gaze. "_You_ haven't gotten me a heart onion," she says pointedly.

Carlisle immediately speaks up. "Edward!" he scolds. "You haven't gotten her a heart onion?"

Alice and Esme are shocked. "What? No heart onion?"

Even the goddamn couple in the corner joins in. "Yeah, man, I got Angela a heart onion on our first date. What's up with that?"

Suddenly seven pairs of eyes are on me, waiting for my response. Bella is grinning madly now.

"Ooh, no heart onion," says Chef Ken forlornly. "She going to leave you now, husband. Find real man with pantry _full_ of onions."

This strikes a cord in me I never even knew was there. Taking Bella's hand in mine, I kiss her knuckles and say, "Bella, if it's onions you want, I'll buy the whole lot of them in Olympia. No, in _Washington_."

"Aww," Alice coos. "See? He is a romantic!"

"Will you shape them into hearts for me?" Bella asks hopefully. When I nod she sweetly smiles and wraps her arm around my waist, squeezing it in between me and the chair, and scoots closer as if overcome by my romanticism. The close proximity of her body causes my pulse to quicken.

"See? Heart onion make eevverryything better," Chef Ken drawls as he cooks.

Bella doesn't move away, remaining plastered to my side as Chef Ken completes our meals and shovels food onto our plates. An extra piece of onion remains, which he quickly adds to Bella's plate, exclaiming, "More onions for pretty girl, hmm?" Our sushi is brought out shortly afterwards; Chef Ken gives an exaggerated bow after quickly scraping the grill and loading his cart. Before making his leave he points his spatula at me. "You give pretty girl onions and whatever else she wants, you hear? She deserves the best. Too pretty to let her get away." Bella is flushing again, but manages to thank him with good grace. Internally, I'm rolling my eyes, thankful that he's gone and is no longer trying to woo my girl from across his onion-reeking grill.

I'm caught off guard by my own internal monologue. _My girl_? Where did that come from?

Bella leans across me to reach the soy sauce and her breast rubs ever-so-casually against my arm. I'm reminded of our night on the couch, of our shirtless kissing and groping...the way her bare breasts felt so soft and smooth in my hands...

_Fuck_! Why couldn't she ask me to hand her the sauce? She nestles back into her seat, oblivious to my internal dilemma.

"Do you like a lot of wasabi in your soy sauce?" she asks.

"Um, not a whole lot, no." I discreetly shift to adjust my pants while she mixes up her concoction.

"They never put enough zucchini in their meals anymore," Alice complains from across the table.

"Oh, here honey. You can have mine." Esme likes zucchini – I've seen her eat it a dozen times – but she scoops it onto Alice's plate anyway.

With a cleansing sigh I delve into my food, hoping it's pleasant enough to distract me from these wayward thoughts. Suddenly, a piece of sushi is hovering inches from my lips.

"Oh my God, Edward. The spicy tuna is to die for. Try it!"

My thoughts return to that night...to the Tiramisu. _God, kill me now_. Not wanting to completely shun her offer I open my mouth and allow her to pop it inside. I notice Alice's eyes are glued on us, scrutinizing our every move. She has the decency to smile and look away when I catch her staring.

"Isn't it good?" Bella asks me.

"Mmm. It's great," I agree.

"You did a good job picking it out." She winks at me and I nearly come undone.

"So, Bella, you said you're a copy editor?" Carlisle asks, and Bella replies with a nod. "What exactly do you do? Is that the same as a book editor?"

Bella shakes her head and gives him the run-down of her job, explaining that she corrects the grammatical errors and also edits the stories to fit the paper, including adding headers and footnotes.

"You must be pretty knowledgeable, then," Carlisle muses. "You're required to read everything in the newspaper."

Bella shrugs. "A lot of the stuff is depressing. I'd rather not have to read it, to be honest. I hate reading about people being murdered and dying in fires...but of course that kind of stuff always makes the front page and requires the most attention."

"Have you thought about being a book editor instead? Then at least you could focus on something you like."

"To tell you the truth, I'd actually rather write." She looks embarrassed as she says this and I can't for the life of me figure out why. It's interesting information, a bit of information about her interests I never knew.

"Why don't you?"

"I've thought about it. It's actually pretty competitive – I'm not sure I've worked there long enough or done much to prove myself as an actual writer. Plus, I'd probably get stuck writing the obituaries or something for a while." She says the last part with a sour tone.

"Hey, we've all got to start somewhere," says Carlisle. "Just ask Edward. He was a copy boy when he was sixteen."

Bella whips around to me, her face bright with interest. "Really? We have a young copy boy in our office – aww, just think! He's like a young little Edward!" She's grinning widely, just reveling in my unease. I clear my throat.

"Thank you for that, Carlisle," I say sarcastically, keeping my attention on my food.

"There's no shame in being a copy boy, Edward," Esme says. "Like he said, everyone has to start somewhere. And just look at you now!"

"I never said I was _ashamed_ of being a copy boy," I point out.

"Oh no," pipes up Alice, "he was so excited when he got the job. Trust me, Bella. He got to wear his first tie and everything. He even had Esme iron it once."

_Jesus Christ_!

"Alice!" I glower at her.

"What? It's true."

"Alice, stop it. You're embarrassing him in front of Bella," Esme scolds.

_Kill. Me. Now._

I have no idea what I must look like, but I figure it can't be good. I'm flustered beyond belief, actually finding myself anxious over what Bella must think.

And then Bella puts her hand on my knee. I look down at it, frozen in place, soon entranced as it slides further and further up my thigh...

Bella's not even looking at me, making no indication that this is even happening.

"It could be worse," I vaguely hear Alice offer. "My first job was piercing unsuspecting girls' ears at a place called Claire's in the mall."

Bella looks intrigued, her hand still on my thigh. I try to ignore it. "That sounds like it would be fun," she reasons.

"It was fun...until I shot an earring an inch deep into my finger with that stupid gun. Look, I still have a scar." She leans across the table, her hand extended to Bella. Suddenly, Bella's hand leaves my thigh, an unnatural chill taking its place. She inspects Alice's hand, grimacing appropriately when she sees the scar.

Then her hand is back...and some unknown entity inside of me rejoices.

Somehow, the conversation shifts to Carlisle and his work at the hospital. Bella opens up and makes for an impressive conversationalist, asking all the right questions and giving tasteful input when appropriate. I can tell that Carlisle and Esme are already taken with her. And of course, get Jasper out of the way and Alice would probably try to smuggle the poor girl to Massachusetts for a quick elopement.

We're all talking about Carlisle's days as a resident when Bella nudges me in the side. When I look at her, she gestures to the couple in the corner with a quick nod of her head. They're sitting so close together they practically fade into one person, their attention completely focused on each other as they talk in hushed voices with demure smiles. The rest of us don't exist.

"He's gonna propose tonight," Bella whispers in my ear, her breath hot on my skin.

"How do you know?"  
"Can't you see how he looks at her? They're obviously in love." Bella's voice is dreamy, yet I can't determine where this sudden blind faith is coming from. When the couple finally picks up and leaves Bella waves goodbye with a shy grin.

A few moments later I excuse myself to the bathroom. I'm surprised to find the man standing there in front of the mirror; I'm in awe to find him stroking the velvet box to a ring while he battles with his visible nerves.

Bella was right. But how could she be? She must have seen the ring...

The man starts and looks up when I enter, then visibly relaxes when he sees it's only me. Just the onion guy from his table. "Hey," he says, slipping the box into his jacket pocket.

"Hey," I say coolly. I debate whether or not to mention the box. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, man. I'm fine." He looks anything but.

"You know, this is really none of my business, but my friend just told me you were going to propose."

He looks surprised. "Who said that?"

"Um, the girl I'm with. Bella."

He chuckles nervously. "Either she's a mind-reader or it's just really obvious I'm sweating bricks over here." I smile compassionately but don't agree to either. "Sorry man, I'm just really nervous. This is where we went on our first date, you know? Then we went downtown and walked along the river for a while. That's where we're headed next. I'm just trying to get my bearings." He splashes his face with cool water from the sink while he talks.

"I'm sure everything will go fine. You two seem very happy together."

And just who am I to give such assurance?

"Thanks, man."

When I'm done with my business I find the man still hovering over the sink. Still getting his bearings. He looks at me through the mirror.

"That girl," he begins slowly, "you said she was your friend?"

"Oh, uh...yeah. It's kind of complicated," I admit sheepishly. He snorts.

"What relationship isn't?" I nod in acquiesce and he continues. "But I saw you when the cook was hitting on her and joking around. Maybe you should talk to her."

As I soap up my hands in the sink I repeat, "It's complicated."

He grimaces as though acknowledging he's crossed some invisible line. "I get it, man. There's nothing too complicated for someone you care about, though. You make it work. You ever been in love, man?" he asks.

I meet his eyes in the mirror. "No."

He raises his brows. "Yeah, guess not," he agrees. "You would know if you had been. This whole thing has turned my life upside down. She's literally all I fucking think about. Being with anyone else doesn't even appeal to me anymore." He snorts. "How crazy is that? I never thought these words would come out of my mouth, but she really makes me a better person."

I'm silent, frowning slightly as I allow his words to sink in. Before I can formulate a coherent response he's pulling paper towels from the dispenser noisily.

"Well man, I gotta go. Can't keep her waiting." He winks at me.

Before he's able to escape through the door I ask, "What's your name?"

He pauses. "Ben."

"Well it was nice meeting you, Ben. I'm Edward. Good luck tonight."  
He smiles and shakes my hand. "Thanks, Edward. Good luck to you, too. Things will work out...if it's meant to be, things always find a way of working out." He exits through the door, the noisy hinge of the door creaking in his wake.

---

The server gives us several to-go boxes. This time, Bella wasn't able to eat everything, though that's not to say she didn't try. Even as she's pouring her food into her box she's randomly popping stray pieces of chicken or broccoli into her mouth while complaining, "Oh my God, if I eat anymore I'm gonna burst."

I wisely keep silent.

Everyone gives Bella a hug goodbye. Alice is especially emotional.

"I leave on Monday," she mumbles against Bella's shoulder. She has her locked in a death-grip as if her life depends on this moment. "But I'll try to come up again soon. Then maybe Jasper can come and you can meet him, too! He came up for Thanksgiving last year."

"Alice, one thing at a time, sweetheart. It's only August," Carlisle wisely interjects. He turns to Bella. "It was nice meeting you, Bella. Hopefully you won't be a stranger."

Bella smiles politely. "Of course not."

"You have my number, right, Bella? Be sure and keep in touch," says Alice with a wink.

It feels much later than it actually is by the time we make it to my car. Bella is abnormally quiet; she buckles herself up in the passenger's seat and rests both boxes of food on her lap, lost in thought. I climb in beside her.

"That went well," I comment. "Or at least better than I expected. They really seemed to like you."

She looks at me quizically. "Did you think they wouldn't?"

"No. I didn't know what to think, to be honest. I've never introduced them to any of my girlfriends before."

I don't even realize what I've said until Bella blurts, "Girlfriend?"

I'm caught off guard by my own loose tongue. What the hell was I thinking? It just slipped out. "No, I uh...I just meant, you know...a girl that I'm seeing." I can feel my face heating and I'm thankful it's dark inside the car. Bella's eyes are practically boring holes into my skull.

"You know, most guys consider a girl they're seeing to be their girlfriend," she remarks.

_Fuck_.

"Bella--" I begin with a sigh, but she quickly holds up a hand and interrupts.

"Don't worry about it, Edward. I get it. We've only known each other a week. It's too soon, even for me."

_Thank God_.

"Your parents _did _seem to like me, though," she smugly adds.

I smirk at her. "You always talk about my big head, but I have it on good authority that yours isn't any smaller."

"_Please_! Your head's so big I'm surprised it'll fit in the car."

"I'm surprised yours fit inside the restaurant."

"I'm surprised yours fit inside the parking garage."

I laugh and shake my head. "You're impossible, Ms. Swan."

"As are you, Eduardo."

A comfortable silence settles between us. I'm the first to break it.

"You never told me you wanted to be a writer."

She glances at me, though it's impossible to read her expression in the dark. "You never asked."

"Have you written before?"

She shrugs. "You know...just journals and stuff. I wrote some in college but nothing major. Mostly just for fun."

"You should do it," I suddenly suggest.

"Be a writer?"

"Why not?"

Another shrug. "I don't know. To be honest, I'm a little terrified that everyone will hate my writing. I've never actually written anything anyone's _read_ before," she emphasizes.

"You're an editor; you can't be too bad."

"Some editors have good eyes, yet they're sucky at putting two words together," she corrects.

"Are you that type of editor?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. I don't think so..."

I look at her, hoping to portray my sincerity, but I doubt it can be seen. "You'll never know if you don't try, Bella," I say. "I think it's at least worth a shot."

She looks down at her hands for a moment and then offers me a small, uncertain smile. "I guess."

"So you'll try?"  
"Maybe."

"I want you to promise me you'll try, Bella."

She scrunches her brow in confusion. "Why?"

"Because if you have an obligation then you're more likely to do it."

She's silent for a moment. "Why do you even care so much?" she wonders.

"You deserve to be doing something you love, Bella," I answer. "You shouldn't have to settle for second best." When she doesn't respond I ask, "So is it a promise?"

"I don't know, Edward..."

"That's not the kind of attitude that will make you a writer," I assure her.

She sighs but relents. "Fine, I promise I'll try."

I smile. "Good."

It seems the ride back to my house is much too short. We arrive before I know it and it suddenly occurs to me that Bella will probably be ready to drive back to her home in Seattle. A little pang of disappoint courses through me at the thought.

She mirrors my thoughts by saying, "It's getting late. I should probably head back home. I have a good little drive ahead of me." She offers a small smile to assure me that it's no big deal.

"Do you think you'll be okay driving this late?" I ask. "If you're too tired the guest bedroom is always available..."

In that very same instant I realize, for the first time ever, that I've invited a girl to stay over at my house. What the fuck am I thinking tonight? It seems everything has been twisted upside down and backwards.

"No, I'll be okay," she says. "It's only nine o'clock."

"Are you sure?"

She chuckles sweetly. "Yes, Edward. I'm sure. Thank you though."

We exit the car and she meets me on my side, gingerly handing me my box of carry-out. "That'll make a good lunch tomorrow," she says; she almost sounds nervous.

"Thank you," I mumble. "You need to get your clothes from inside?"  
"That'd be great. I'll actually go ahead and change and leave these clothes for Alice."

I let her inside and she disappears up the staircase. While she's changing I shed my jacket and undo the top button of my shirt, allowing myself a bit of breathing room. I realize I forgot to tell her about Ben.

I hear her footsteps on the stairs before I see her. "I forgot to tell you, Bella, but I talked to Ben in the bathroom."

"Who?"

"The guy that was sitting at our table tonight."

"Oh! What did you talk about?"

"He said he was proposing tonight."

She beams at me, her whole face alighting in pleasure as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and walks closer. "See! I told you."

She's dressed in her old clothes from last night, her hair tossed carelessly aside, yet her sudden excitement leaves her more beautiful than ever.

"Yeah, you were right. Did you see the ring?" I wonder.

"No. But did you just see how they looked at each other? She's the center of his universe, I could tell."

"He seemed really excited," I agree.

"Good. I wonder what they're doing right now...you think they're making phone calls to everyone they've ever spoken to since grade school?"

"That or getting lucky," I blurt without thinking. Bella's eyes widen in surprise, yet she doesn't seem offended.

"Such a man," she observes with a smile. "Always thinking about one thing."

I smile apologetically. "Sorry."

We face each other a moment, then with her purse clutched in her hand, Bella sighs. "I hung Alice's dress up in the closet," she says. "And I put her shoes there, too."

"Thank you."

"I should go."

I glance at her lips. They're so full and soft and inviting. They call to me, not for the first time tonight, yet in mere seconds they'll disappear out the door. My opportunity will vanish.

I've never had an actual desire to kiss someone before. In a moment of spontaneity, I take a chance. A selfish, albeit fulfilling, chance.

"Bella?" I step closer to her, closing the distance. Bella looks up at me but doesn't move away.

"Yes?"

It seems as though my next words are spoken by someone else. I hear them, but I don't feel them. I don't register the move of my tongue, the vibrations in my throat that alert me as their creator.

My face is close to hers now; my words are just a whisper. "May I kiss you, Bella?"

A demure, pleasant smile graces her lips. Without waiting for her to answer I press my lips softly to hers, applying the tiniest bit of pressure, so that she may move back if she so desires. Fortunately, this isn't the case; she steps closer to me, eliminating the small remainder of space between our bodies, and brings her hand to my chest. I kiss her softly once, twice, and then the third time she parts her lips, allowing my tongue to slip through.

I put my hands on her hips and pull her closer against my body, wanting more of her any way I can have her. She responds with a moan as our kiss intensifies, her fingers twisting in my hair while her other hand fists the fabric of my shirt. Slow, sweet kisses turn hungry, each of us frantic for more, more, more....

She breaks away much too soon, her breaths coming in short gasps. "My friend is getting married next weekend," she breathes, and I kiss her soundly in response, unable to get enough. She greedily reciprocates before breaking away to add, "I wanted to see if you'd go with me."

The words faintly register in my mind as I kiss her yet again, her taste and smell overpowering my ability to think properly.

"Next weekend?" I mumble against her lips, the words already forgotten and meaningless.

"Yes." I kiss her cheek, her jaw, her neck...then Bella suddenly stops me with a hand on either side of my face. "Edward?"

"Yes?" I breathe.

"Will you go?"

As I look at her the weight of her words come back to me, their meaning clear and rather frightening. "To your friend's wedding?" I repeat. Mostly, I'm stalling for time, unable to wrap my head around what's happening.

Her thumbs rub soft circles on my cheeks, her lips ghosting against my own. "Yes."

I get a grip on the situation, on this beautiful girl and what she's asking. Next weekend...a whole week from now. Will we still be speaking in a week? Will she know the truth by then?

I should tell her the truth now. My heart races just thinking about it. Her brown eyes are large, patient. Expectant.

_Why are you such a fucking coward, Edward Anthony Cullen_?

I look at her and my defenses crumble. I don't know what to think, much less what to say. I want to kiss her, ravage her, carry her upstairs and make her scream my name again and again as she's continuously comes undone...and I want to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness, apologize for ever making the bet...the very same bet that led me to meet her. Would I even know her otherwise?

She waits patiently.

"Bella, I--"

"Yes, Edward?" she prompts.

"I can't."

* * *

Ok, I realize I'm getting quite evil with all the cliffies. I'll try to be nice next chappie, k?

Thanks to ms_ambrosia for being awesome and betaing for me and thanks to all my readers and reviewers. I'm sucky at responding right now but come mid-March I'll hopefully get better. But just a side note...I'm getting the impression that some of your are expecting the "love at first sight" scenario in this story...gotta say, sorry, but it's just not gonna happen. You can't expect Edward to trade in his skanks and fall in love in just one week...i know I stretch some things but I like to stay realistic in some aspects. Hopefully, ya'll will enjoy the ride.

Also, I don't know shit about copy editing or working for a newspaper. If all my shit's wrong, just be nice and pretend I'm all-knowing, k? I also made up the Fuji place with the aquarium...we have a Fuji Steakhouse here, but the aquarium is at a Chinese restaurant, so I just combined the two. I'll probably make up shit again if it suits me, jsyk. But the restaurant from chapter 3 was a real place in Seattle...I'll try to post links on my profile later.

There is apparently a new trend of fics getting pulled/being pulled. If this fic is pulled it's up in its entirety at Twilighted. I'll post a link on my profile.

I suck at using it, but I post updates and teasers on twitter at mybluesky1 if you want to follow me.

You can come play on the thread at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440 where I'll post teasers and try to answer any questions you may have.

Final thing...this chapter was 8.5K (!!!) My longest yet. May not be long for some, but that's substantial for me...see, I do try to please :-)

-mybluesky


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter Seventeen

BPOV

Sundays are always lazy.

After laying awake for nearly two hours last night, too caught up on an emotional roller-coaster to rest, I manage to sleep in until eleven o'clock. When I wake I'm still exhausted, a weakness overcome only by two cups of coffee, each with double cream, double sugar. I vaguely wonder what Edward would think of my nutritious breakfast beverage and then berate myself for even thinking his opinion matters.

Because he said no.

_No_.

The _nerve_.

I'd made quick work of leaving after that happened. I pretended like it didn't matter, forcing a calm tone to my voice, but Edward saw straight through it. What was it he'd said?

Oh, yes. "It's complicated, Bella," and "Things are just moving kind of fast for me right now." He seemed to really want me to understand; he just didn't have the words.

I wish I knew what he was thinking; his constant mood swings are sure to give me whiplash. Why, if he is so eager to win this bet, is he suddenly becoming skittish about this one thing? He allowed me to go to dinner with his parents for fuck's sake. Shouldn't that have been worse in comparison? It seems as though he should be ready to conquer anything now.

Perhaps he's given up. That's pretty likely – I have pushed his buttons quite a few times. I'd thought for sure that the dinner would push him over the edge and, now that I think about it, maybe it has. And he never gave me any indication that he would call me again, after all.

I mull over this as I take my shower. The fact that I may never see him again is actually a little depressing. Despite what I know about him, I like him. I really, _really_ like him. But why?

Rose would have me lynched if she knew. She must never find out. She'd probably try to hook me up with that computer technician from her work she's been threatening me with. What's his name? Eric? She'd even given me a running commentary of what our first date would be like, beginning with, "Baby, you make my floppy disc turn into a hard drive," and "What do you say we go back to my room and do some math: add a bed, subtract your clothes, divide your legs, and multiply."

As you can imagine, I was sent running for the hills, Rose's mad cackles echoing manically in my wake.

Yes, she must never, _ever_ find out. I put off calling her, knowing she will insist I finally call him out on everything since he's not accompanying me to the wedding. As pathetic as it is, I'm just not ready to completely severe ties with him. I need to think about everything, but first, I need a mental vacation. I need a day to clear my mind. Surely this is just a phase I'm going through – surely I'm just enraptured by his beautiful eyes and gorgeous bum. And his passionate kisses. And his teasing. God, how I love his teasing....and he actually handled the dinner with a surprising amount of grace. I expected an Armageddon, or perhaps the second sinking of the Titanic. I expected a catastrophe.

I need a distraction. Luckily, I don't have to search far. Leah calls me just as I'm getting dressed to catch up – I haven't spoken to her in over a week.

"Have you gotten a dress to wear to the wedding yet?" she asks me. She knows me well enough to know I don't already own one.

"Not exactly...but I already know where I'm gonna buy it and everything!" I uselessly assure. She knows it's all bullshit.

"That's bullshit, Bella. Why don't you meet me at Starbucks in half an hour – we'll fill our tanks and pick something out."

Dress shopping doesn't sound fun. In fact, it sounds downright horrendous, just one shot of espresso short of torture, but it's the distraction I need. Without further persuasion, I agree.

---

Leah's always been quite the athlete and I attribute this to her relentless stamina. She can run around in heels for hours without tiring while I'm constantly dragging ass even with my sneakers on. But to be fair, my feet still hurt from the past two days.

Naturally, Leah doesn't care.

"Holy cow, I'm getting a massive stitch in my side. Would you slow the fuck down?"

She shoots me an incredulous look. "Can you not even walk from one side of the mall to the other without having an asthma attack? Are you still seeing Roberto?"

Roberto was my personal trainer for...well, four days. After that week of pure, agonizing torture, I inconspicuously avoided all his calls and started taking the long way to work to avoid driving by the gym.

"Sometimes. Maybe," I answer evasively. She cocks an eyebrow at me. "Okay, fine. I ditched him. You happy?"

"Why the hell would I be happy? You're slowing us down. If you were still seeing him you'd be able to keep up."

"Leah, he had me do this leg push thing and I swear both my ass cheeks had a seizure. It just wasn't worth it."

"Well Jacob and I have started jogging on the marina in the morning. You should come with us!"

"What time?"

"Six o'clock."

"Are you kidding me? I can't wake up that early."

"We both have to be at work at eight. It's not like we have much of a choice. And it'll make you feel better."

"Sleeping in makes me feel better..."

"Just go to bed thirty minutes earlier. I mean, what have you been doing lately besides staying up watching Lost reruns?"

I know she doesn't mean to be offensive, but I can't help but feel a tad bit wounded by her statement.

"I do stuff," I say defensively.

The bitch acts surprised. "Oh? Like what?"

"For your information, I've gone out the past two weekends in a row." _Ha, take that!_

"Who'd you go out with this weekend?" she asks, confused. She already knows about my play date with Jake and Rose last week.

"A friend. Alice," I vaguely reply.

"Who's Alice?"

"A friend."

"Yeah, I got that. How did you meet?"

"Um, a friend of a friend." _Shit_. This is not what I want to be thinking about right now. "She's Rose's new boyfriend's friend's sister."

Leah scrunches up her nose at my words as we enter the next boutique, aka certified torture chamber. "Who is Rose seeing now?"

"His name's Emmett. They've only been dating a week or so."

"Is he nice?"

"Yeah, he is. Rose really seems to like him." _Lalala...do not think about Edward..._

"That's good. She's just so damn picky, you know? I swear George Clooney could ask her out tomorrow and she'd find something wrong with the man."

"Yeah, well, she just knows what she wants," I say impassively. I look at an ugly green dress, struggling to keep my attention on anything except _him_.

A salesman comes to help us just as Leah is thrusting a petite yellow dress my way. It's pretty, but so was the dress I found at the last place we visited, yet Leah insisted we "check every store to make sure there's nothing better."

The salesman, by name of Francis on his name tag, gives me a quick once-over. "Ah, yes. I know just the thing for you. We just got in a whole shipment of dresses from Alberto Makali." He leads us towards the back and presents us with six different dresses. Leah's eyes light up like it's the second coming of Christ.

"She'll try them all on," she breathes excitedly.

_Great_.

---

An hour and a half later and I'm spent. I don't even try to hide my annoyance anymore. I tell Leah, in the nicest way possible, that if I have to look at one more dress, I'm gonna puke on the whole lot of them. She tells me, in not such a nice way, that I need to suck it up and not put things off until the last minute, to which I argue that I still have a whole week to get this done.

Note to self: Never indicate that you're not ecstatic to dress up for Leah's big day. The repercussions could be painful, even more so than trying on twenty-hundred dresses with sore feet.

I settle on a slim, light-blue dress with a hefty price-tag. I never realized there were so many rules when it came to buying a dress for a wedding. I couldn't choose anything white, black, red, short, or loud. It's a good thing Leah came with me because I found a little red number I was just itching to try on.

We head to a little restaurant not far away for a quick bite to eat. Leah orders a Sangria, but I discover I still haven't made a full recovery; just the smell of alcohol makes me green.

Leah begins filling me in on every detail of the wedding. I mostly just listen, not knowing a whole lot about weddings. Truthfully, I'm just thankful she's no longer keen on discussing Rose and her newest boy toy. She informs me with much enthusiasm that Jake has chosen an acceptable band and they were, fortunately, willing to play on such short notice.

We're nearly done with our food when a passerby does a double-take of our table. I barely pay attention as he does an awkward one-eighty, nearly stumbling into our waitress in the process.

"Bella? Is that you?"

When I see who it is I nearly spew my soda.

"Tyler?"

"God, I can't believe it's really you! Long time no see!"

Tyler was my "sort-of-more-than-friends" friend back in college. We'd dated casually for a little while and became close. However, his family lived in northern Colorado, nearly thirteen-hundred miles away, and he'd had his heart set on moving back home once he graduated.

He was the first person I ever had real feelings for. It's been almost two years since I saw him last, yet now he's here...but why?

"Yeah," I agree, feeling suddenly shy. "What are you doing in Seattle?"

"I'm looking for a place here, actually." He grins, obviously pleased to be telling me this.

"But what about your family?"

"I need a change," he says determinedly. "I found a good job here and decided to take a chance for once. I'll still be able to visit them. With the pay raise I'll be getting I should definitely be able to afford it."

I'm surprised, but not displeased. "Tyler, that...that's great! Congratulations on the new job!"

He smiles. "Thank you."

"Oh, this is Leah, by the way," I introduce. "Leah, Tyler. He's a friend from college."

Leah smiles kindly. "It's nice to meet you, Tyler."

"You know, we should get together soon, Bella. I don't know many people here. It'd be nice seeing a friendly face."

"Um, sure. That would be nice..."

"Here. What's your number?" He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and I rattle my number off to him. He then calls me, quickly hanging up before I have time to register where my phone is located. "There. Now you have my number, too. I'll call you later, okay? It was nice meeting you, Leah."

As soon as he's out of sight Leah leans towards me. "Oh my gosh, who is he? He's hot!" she exclaims in a hushed voice.

"He's just a friend," I mumble. My face feels hot.

"Uh huh. Just a friend my ass."

"Leah, I'm serious."

"So am I. If he's not something more he very well should be. You're gonna call him, right?"

"I don't know..."

She groans. "_Please_ don't do this to me, Bella. If you'd seriously prefer to watch reruns than to get you some of _that_--" She gestures wildly with her hands. I feel that little twang of hurt again, that small feeling of disappointment that maybe I'm not as awesome as I always thought I was.

I nearly snort. _Yeah, right_.

Yet Edward comes to mind and my unease increases tenfold. I'm not supposed to be thinking about him, but it's nearly impossible. Against my better judgment, I check my phone with a small inkling of hope.

A missed call from Tyler. Nothing from Edward.

With a sigh I return the phone to my purse. Leah is still staring at me expectantly.

"Well?" she prompts.

"Sure, Leah. I suppose it won't hurt to call him."

---

The sky is darkening by the time I get home. My surprise over seeing Tyler is long gone, the feeling replaced by an unpleasant bitterness, an unwelcome feeling of sadness that can't be subdued even with loud music or the distraction of driving. I pull into the lot of my apartment at such a sharp angle that my whole purse topples over in the seat and sends my checkbook, makeup, gum, and random junk flying to the floorboard and in between the seats. I curse, mostly for the hell of it, because at this point I don't really care.

After I park the car I lean over and, ass high in the air, begin digging all my crap out of the tight space between the seats. I'm confused when I find something hard and plastic lodged between the door and the passenger's seat. I'm bewildered when I pull out the rented DVD of _The Green Mile_.

I stare at it for a moment. How the fuck did it get in my car? I drove my car after the movie store but I don't remember having it with me...

I shrug and shove it into my purse, carrying it inside. I wash my face and change, then debate whether or not to watch Lost reruns. Eventually, I shake my head – _damn you_, _Leah, for making rerun nights a bad thing!_

Begrudgingly, I rifle through my DVD tower, passing over the seasons which whisper my name. Who cares if I watch them – who's gonna know?

_I will_, my subconscious whispers. I glare down at my belly, as though the creepy, imaginary voice came from there.

After several more moments of sorting and rejecting I eventually pull _The Green Mile _out of my purse and peruse the back cover. It's not a funny movie, that much is certain, but it could have potential. Plus, we never got to watch either of Edward's movies...I really _was_ looking forward to getting a bit of insight into his interests. But does it matter now? He rejected me and hasn't called.

Oh hell, I've seen everything else a hundred times. Why not? Maybe it's good. And maybe if it's _real_ good I'll never return it, sticking Edward with the lost-video fee. Yeah, that will show him.

I pop it in, grab a drink from the kitchen, and settle down on the couch with my throw blanket.

An hour into the movie, I'm completely enraptured by the sudden attack of Billy the Kid. I'm intrigued, simply _dying_ to know what John Coffey did to land himself in the pokey.

Forty-five minutes later I'm bawling my eyes out, too horrified to look away.

Another hour and I'm the most depressed I've ever fucking been. I'm a sobbing, snotty, disgusting mess. I curse Edward to Hades and back for ever suggesting I watch such a sad movie; then I curse myself for actually watching it. And he's not even here!

Pathetically, I check my phone again, hoping that maybe I've gone deaf and just didn't hear him ring. Of course that's not the case; my sadness quickly morphs into irritation.

My life made perfect sense before the stupid bet and all this "seduction" madness. It's true I didn't lead the most exciting life, but that was okay with me. I _enjoyed _Lost reruns on Friday nights, goddamn it. Just because Leah is off doing...whatever it she does on the weekends doesn't mean _my _life is any less satisfactory than hers.

I stew in this revelation a few more moments before picking up the phone and dialing Edward's number. I have no idea what I'm doing.

It goes to his voicemail. After a moment's hesitation I leave a message.

"Hey Edward, it's Bella. Just wanted to let you know you left _The Green Mile_ in my car. I figured you'd want to return it so just, uh....call me back, I guess. Maybe the next time you're in Seattle you can come pick it up." I suddenly feel overcome with emotion and my voice cracks. I try my best to hide it. "And um...I watched it. I _told_ you I don't like sad movies. But um....yeah. I guess I'll talk to you later."

I'm still a sobbing mess as I make my way into the bathroom, though now I suspect my emotions lie outside just the tumult the movie has caused. I can't place why I feel this way, but everything has left me so..._sad_. My hormones must wrecking havoc; the thought of Edward going away for good leaves a bad taste in my mouth, a knot in my stomach. I don't want him to go away, I simply want him to be_ normal_. Although in that case I'm wishing for him to be someone he's not. Perhaps a more correct phrasing would be that I want him to like me. And _only _me.

But how could he? I've been awful to him, imposing myself on his family and breaking into his house. Yet he's been just as awful by making that stupid bet on me. I snort - what a romantic couple we would make. Such a charming story to tell the children. I shake my head at myself in the mirror.

I should have just watched Lost.

I rinse my face and try to wipe away the torrent of tears. The flow eases, yet they never cease. But damn, it feels good to have a good cry. I can feel the stress lifting from my shoulders; already, I feel lighter.

When I'm done I clean up my mess, returning the movie to its case, and get ready for bed. I'm feeling marginally better, though I still look a mess. My eyes are red and swollen, my face splotchy and tear-stained. With a dismal sigh, I tuck myself beneath the covers and try to go to sleep.

The effort is futile. I toss and turn, unable to rest, unable to clear my mind even for a minute. Eventually I get up and migrate back to the TV with my blanket, hoping to distract myself with bad commercials and old shows.

There's a sudden knock at the door. I freeze, sitting deathly still, and wonder if the knocking is coming from the neighbor's place. Who would be visiting at this time?

There's another knock, louder this time. I trudge from the couch, wipe my face, and hurry for the door. I stand on my toes to peer through the peep-hole; I suck in a raspy gasp when I see who it is.

---

EPOV

It's not normal to think of someone this way – to think about them all the time, obsessing over every little detail of what things are and what they could be if things were different.

Would I even know Bella if I hadn't made the bet? Probably not. I probably would never have approached her under normal circumstances – not because she doesn't deserve to be pursued, but because it's obvious we have different desires.

She's a traditional girl. Unfortunately, I'm not a traditional guy. It's bad luck how that seems to pose such a problem.

I decided to give myself some space today. After last night, I thought I was gonna lose it. Seeing the hurt in her eyes after I told her I wouldn't take her to the wedding was almost more than I could bear. She wanted to know why; and what could I say? I could have told her the truth, but that would have ended everything. She probably would have slapped me, and justifiably so, before telling me to stay away from her.

I would never see her again. I would lose the bet. As much as she deserves better, I'm a selfish person.

I just wasn't ready to let those things happen. I lied, or at least stretched the truth, telling her that things were moving too fast and I just needed time to think. She accepted my answer – verbally, at least – but I could tell she was bothered. She left as soon as she could with reassurances that she understood my dilemma and would talk to me tomorrow. "I'm just tired, Edward," she'd said. "I don't really feel like talking about it anymore."

I thought about calling her at least a dozen times today. I spent the majority of the day at Esme and Carlisle's house, squeezing in a few more hours of sibling bonding time before Alice leaves for San Francisco in the morning. Naturally, Alice wanted to talk about Bella. A lot.

"I really like her, Edward. Esme likes her, too. So at least you don't have to worry about the family hating her. Do you think she'll come over for Thanksgiving? I'm pretty sure Jasper is gonna come up with me."

"For fuck's sake, Alice. I've only known her a week."

She sighs impatiently. "I already _told_ you, Edward. She's different, I can feel it. She'll be around for Thanksgiving as long as you don't fuck it up." _If she only knew_. "Luckily, you have me to help guide you along," she adds.

_Yes, thank God for that_, I think sarcastically.

After spending all day with the family, I hug Alice goodbye and leave shortly after dinner. I waste time around the house for about half an hour before deciding that I'll stay in Seattle tonight. My place there really doesn't get enough use and, though it sounds crazy to admit, it'll bring me closer to _her_. Why must I torture myself this way?

I grab my keys and leave.

I don't have to be at work until nine-thirty tomorrow, which is when my first meeting begins. That will give me plenty of time to wake up and make the hour drive in the morning. Right?

Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm refusing to call the girl, trying not to think about her, yet being in the same city as her gives me this morbid sense of satisfaction. Though I try not to, I debate whether or not to just fucking call her the whole drive over. I battle the urge, uselessly telling myself I need to give myself some space.

Suddenly, fifteen minutes outside the city, my phone rings. Speeding down the highway, I awkwardly pull it from my pocket – it's already a good three rings in – and check the caller ID.

It's her.

I stare at it, frozen. My mind races with a million possibilities, with the fear that she's going to scream at me or worse, act indifferent. What could she want? It can't be anything good. Not after last night.

Just as I get ready to answer, the ringing stops. I immediately call her back and it goes straight to her voicemail. Perhaps she's leaving me a message....a few moments later my phone beeps, my suspicions confirmed.

"Hey Edward, it's Bella. Just wanted to let you know you left _The Green Mile_ in my car. I figured you'd want to return it so just, uh....call me back, I guess. Maybe the next time you're in Seattle you can come pick it up. And um...I watched it. I _told_ you I don't like sad movies. But um....yeah. I guess I'll talk to you later." Her voice cracks throughout the message. It almost sounds as if she's...crying?

I'm caught off guard, stunned at the realization. Is she crying over the movie? Or maybe over me?

_Great, Edward. Now you've done it. As if making the bet wasn't bad enough....you go off and upset her anyway you can_.

I'm going crazy, I'm sure of it. Exiting the highway, I turn left instead of right. My resolve is hardening, unwavering; I'm going to see Bella.

---

Fifteen minutes later, I'm standing in front of the door to her apartment. Everything is quite, ominous; not a soul stirs on either end of the hallway. I can't abate the pounding of my heart as I reach forward and knock.

I wait a moment, but there's no answer. I knock a little harder and wonder if she's gone to bed. It's only been fifteen minutes since her phone call.

Is she even here? Perhaps she called me from somewhere else. The thought provokes a mingled feeling of relief and disappointment.

And then the door swings opens.

Bella stands there in her pajamas, her hair disheveled, her eyes red and swollen. It's obvious she's been crying. She looks surprised to see me.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is uneven.

I falter. What _am _I doing here?

Uneasily, I say, "I got your message. You sounded upset."

She shifts to one foot and crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at me. "Yeah, well...that movie was really sad."

"I'm sorry. I didn't even know you had it..."

Then she breaks down. Silent tears begin to pour down her cheeks; she wipes her face hastily but is unable to stop the flow.

In an instant, I'm at her side and she's in my arms. "Bella, what's wrong?" I asked, concerned. She wraps her arms around me, hugging tightly, and sobs against my chest. She feels so good against me, so warm and soft and just..._right_.

"I just...I can't...I just feel so emotional right now, Edward. Everything is just a mess."

"Shh, Bella. It's okay. Will you tell me about it?" I coax softly.

"I don't think so...not tonight," she says uncertainly. "I don't feel like talking about it."

"Okay, well whenever you're ready then. Were you sleeping?"

"I was trying," she sniffs. "I couldn't sleep, though. I started watching more TV on the couch."

"Come on." I guide her towards the couch. The entire apartment is dark save for the dim light of the TV. There's a large blanket on the couch, which she pulls back before sitting down in front of me, her hand lightly clasping mine as I stand over her.

She gives my hand a little tug. "Are you gonna sit?" she asks. She pulls the cover back further, inviting me in, and I slide in beside her. She tucks herself into my side. "You could have called me," she hedges.

"I know. I thought about it all day. I just-- I wanted to think about things," I try to explain.

"Oh." Her voice sounds small. _Fuck_. I should have just called her.

"Here." I gently push her shoulders, urging her to lay back, and I kick off my shoes before laying at her side on the couch. Her back is flush against my chest, her hair at my nose. I have no idea what's going on. I'm torn; it's like my body is pulling me in two different directions, each half wanting something different. One half is scared shitless; the other is aching to be closer, yearning for more.

Suddenly Bella twists around to face me. I sigh in contentment as I pull her closer, kissing her forehead, her tear-stained cheeks, and finally her lips, our mouths drawn together like a magnetic force more powerful than us both. The kisses are soft, innocent, and promising. I want to erase everything I've done to her.

I rest my forehead against hers and a minute of silence passes this way.

"I don't know why I like you so much," she finally whispers into the night. I can feel her breath against my cheek, the heat absorbing into my skin as her words absorb into my mind.

"I don't know why you do either," I finally whisper in reply. I expect her to ask me what the hell I mean - why on earth would I think this way - but surprisingly, she remains silent.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you really come over?"

It doesn't take me long to figure out the answer. "Because I really like you, too." I pull her even closer and she seems to melt against me as she relaxes.

Several minutes pass in a comfortable silence. I can't remember ever feeling as content as I do now.

"Bella?" I whisper, wondering if she's fallen asleep.

"Hm?"

"Have you...is anyone else...taking you to the wedding?"

I feel her tense slightly in my arms, but she doesn't stir. "No," she mumbles against my chest. I can't deny the overwhelming sense of relief I feel.

"Would you....still want to go with me?"

She shifts against me, leaning back a bit to see my face. "Do you want to go with me?" she asks cautiously.

"Yes. I mean, if you still want me to."

She gives a small nod with a half-smile. I feel like I'm soaring. "Okay."

* * *

See? No mean cliffie this time. So I can be nice.

The last chapter set me at over 1000 reviews...I can't even begin to describe how awesome you guys are and how much I appreciate your comments. As usual, ms_ambrosia endured comma hell to polish this up nice and pretty for me. Passionmama is helping keep this story on track while coming up with endless twisted ideas...she's madly brilliant I tell you...

This week is finals for three of my classes. I'll update as soon as I can but it may take a smidgen longer than usual.

I'm mybluesky1 on Twitter if you want to follow. I post teasers and updates. You can also come say hi at the thread at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440 where I also post teasers.

People are asking again but I still don't know how long this story is gonna be. I'm not that organized. I'm thinking it's probably nearing halfway done, but....you never know.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: To the lovely #2...you know who you are...passionmama and I thought we should warn you to premedicate before this chapter. Perhaps benadryl? Lorazepam? Just sayin.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 18

BPOV

In the faint recesses of my dream I hear an alarm. The sound is so far away it seems to be nothing but a whisper, a hushed pleading for me to wake.

I open one eye and, in doing so, it's like my entire body comes to life. I suddenly feel a crick in my neck, an ache in my shoulder, and a very warm body pressed against my back. Two strong arms encircle me, holding me tightly, their crushing grip the only thing keeping me from plunging to the floor as I teeter dangerously on the edge of the small couch. Slow, deep breaths blow hot air against my neck.

I suddenly remember where I am and what has happened. I'm afraid to move, our bodies molded so closely together that my stirring movements are sure to wake him. When did I fall asleep? The last thing I remember was The Facts of Life theme song playing in the background as I basked in the aftermath of Edward's proposal, finally feeling at ease after what proved to be a mentally exhausting day. And his soft lips against mine as he admitted that he liked me. Was he telling the truth?

A part of me hopes so. A big part.

I don't know why I yearn for something more from him. In the end, he still made the bet on me. It's such a terrible thing to do, something that seems against his character, but do I really know him? Or is it all just an act? Is everything he's telling me a lie?

I can't be sure, though one thing is certain: he remains dishonest. Why won't he admit to the bet? I haven't outed him yet, but it seems as though it would make things easier if he just admitted to it all himself.

Again, I ponder at the terms of the bet. Money seems like too much of a trivial thing. Besides, Edward seems to have plenty. But what else could it be? Does James have some dirt on Edward? Could he be _blackmailing_ Edward? But no, Jacob said Edward willingly took the bet. If that's the case, it could be a number of things.

Edward sighs behind me, pulling me even tighter against his chest. I love the feeling of being pressed against him, of feeling his heart beating against my back, his breath in my hair. His body is hard and warm and comfortable, his jeans an unpleasant barrier between us.

Then he shifts, and I feel it. _It_. Against my back, digging right into the crack of my ass, a mere two inches shy of the danger zone. Holy mother of Jesus, someone save me now. What do I do? Wake him? Move away? If I scoot over any further I'll tumble off the couch.

I can feel my face heating, the warmth spreading all the way to my chest, as I debate every available option. Thankfully, Edward puts me out of my misery moments later by loosening his hold and stirring, his thingy pointing in a much safer direction.

"Mmm...Bella?" he mumbles. His arm unwraps itself from my body and he rubs his face sleepily.

"Yeah?" I croak. My voice is thick with sleep.

"What are you--" He sits up a little, nearly catapulting me off the couch, but he quickly grabs a hold of me again before I fall. "What time is it?"

My alarm has finally stopped, giving up, but I know what time it's set to go off each morning. "About six-thirty."

"Oh." He relaxes back against the couch, simultaneously pulling me against him.

"I have to get up, though," I reluctantly hedge. Now that his little...distraction...is no longer poking me in the rear, I can relax and simply enjoy this rare feeling of comfort.

"What time do you work?" he mumbles against my neck. I can feel his lips grazing the skin, his breath heating me throughout, and I get chill bumps all over.

"Eight," I breathe.

"Five more minutes." He nuzzles into my neck and that amount of time sounds painfully short.

"Okay."

"Mmm." There's not even an inch of breathing room between us and I couldn't be happier. "I don't remember falling asleep," he says sleepily.

"Me either."

We lay that way together and, despite my sore neck and shoulder, it's easy and comfortable. I feel at home, unable to imagine a better way to wake in the morning.

It's so easy to lose myself in him. Perhaps I should be worried, but at the moment I can't find it within me to care.

Then my alarm sounds again. Together, we groan.

"I wish we didn't have to work," he mumbles, mirroring my exact thoughts.

"Me, too. What time do you have to be in?"  
"Nine-thirty. I should probably go ahead and go so I can get a shower and change."

I reluctantly nod and peel myself from his arms and off the couch. Immediately, I begin pawing at my hair, hoping I don't look half as frightful as I usually do in the morning.

Edward stands and tugs his clothes smooth, then quickly begins folding the blanket. I wave off his efforts.

"Don't worry about that, I'm just gonna throw it on my bed." I take it from him, and when I return I see that his clothes are rumpled, his hair is wild, and he even has a small crease on his cheek from where he was sleeping. He looks gloriously uninhibited, a specimen I'd like to keep locked in a glass box for my pleasurable observation. I shamelessly check him out, my eyes unconsciously traveling south as my thoughts return to the wood that had been digging into my back just moments before. I can feel that familiar warmth traveling from my face throughout my body at the thought.

Edward notices my flush and his lips immediately raise into that cocky, albeit sleepy, crooked grin. I'm suddenly reminded of who I'm dealing with and I roll my eyes.

"Don't even start," I warn him.

He holds up both hands innocently. He's still grinning. "I didn't say a word."

"What you're thinking is never good. Come on, I need to take a shower." He looks surprised for a moment and I wonder if he thinks I've invited him to join me. _Cocky bastard_. Not on your life. "You want some coffee or something before you leave?" I ask, hoping to clarify my intent.

"Um, no. I'm good." He clears his throat. "I'll just stop and get something on the way back to Olympia."

"Okay. Are you..." I want to ask him if he's coming back, if he'll call, if I'll ever see him again, but I realize how pathetic I sound and stop short.

"Am I what?" Edward prompts.

"Nothing. You sure you don't need anything before you go?"

He thinks about it. "Can I get a kiss goodbye?"

My mind instantly races to the horror that is my morning breath. Would it kill the moment if I rushed off to brush my teeth first?

Probably.

My lips suddenly move, forming words at their own volition. "Of course you can." _Damn, _that's not what they were supposed to say. My heart races as he moves to stand in front of me and it's a wonder he can't hear the frantic stampede of emotions occurring inside my chest. Why does he affect me this way?

He pushes a stray piece of hair from my face. "You look cute this way," he muses.

I'm confused. "What way?"

"In your rumpled pajamas. With your bed hair."

Oh God, is he serious? I flush a thousand shades of scarlet and wish I'd had the sense to check my reflection on the way back from my bedroom.

Before I can mumble an awkward thanks his lips are pressing softly against mine, leaving me speechless. I moan and close my eyes, my hands immediately snaking around his neck, to his hair, and our kiss quickly deepens as his tongue tentatively strokes my own. I clutch to him as though this is our last kiss. Our future is too uncertain; today could be our last, or tomorrow, and I'm eager to drink in every delicious bit before he's gone for good.

We reluctantly pull apart, his lips touching mine briefly again, then again, before they touch the side of my nose and he steps away.

I don't want him to go, but it's unavoidable. We both have to work. I feel a wave of irritation at myself for feeling this way.

"I guess I should go," he says and I'm pleased to hear the reluctance in his voice, too. I nod and lead him to the door. "Sorry for crashing on your couch," he says offhandedly.

"Sorry for crashing with you," I joke.

"It's your place. You can crash wherever you want."

"That's true." I'm suddenly rushing him out, eager for him to be gone, eager for these feelings to disappear. "I really need to go shower or I'm gonna be late for work," I say impatiently.

He shoots me a look which I can't decipher. "I'm going," he says pointedly. At the doorway, he makes no pretenses of hanging around, taking note of my hurried demeanor. "Sorry for keeping you," he says. "Don't want you to be late." I can't be sure whether or not I'm imagining the small tinge of rejection in his voice, but it gives an unpleasant twist to my insides either way. I reach out and grab a handful of his shirt, stopping him before he can leave.

"Edward, that's not what I meant," I try to explain. But how can I possibly make him understand what I'm feeling? "I wish you didn't have to leave," I offer, stepping towards him for another kiss. I mean for it to be brief, but his eager response leaves me feeling just as needy. I pull him towards me greedily, devouring his mouth with mine, and break apart moments later feeling exasperated. "I have to go," I say, my tone reprimanding for the effect he has on me. I'm certain he knows what he's doing, the arrogant bastard. Then I remember. "Wait a second, I'll be right back." I disappear inside and quickly retrieve his movie. I push it into his chest.

"I'll see you later," I say, careful to keep my distance this time. The man is dangerous, and his half-grin reveals he's fully aware of what I'm doing.

"Okay, Bella. I'll talk to you later, right?" His last word seems so out of place for a man usually full of confidence.

"Right," I quickly agree, and I can't hide my jovial smile at his words.

When he's gone I slip back inside and channel all of my willpower to keep from melting against the door.

It's going to be a long day.

---

Work holds as a sufficient distraction for a while. Rose contacts me and we text briefly, eventually deciding that we need to get together soon. She has been spending every free moment with Emmett as of late and, while I'm happy for her, I'm also taken aback by my own wave of jealousy. Emmett appears to be a perfect match for her – she is obviously smitten with him, granting him attention she has never paid another – and yet their relationship remains so simple, so uninhibited by secrets and bets. Why can't that happen with me? Edward, the first person I've liked in a long time, is coincidentally the one person I should hate to my very bones. Yet here I am, drawn to what I can't have. To what I shouldn't want.

Why must things be so complicated?

My day takes a sudden, surprising turn when I receive a call from Tyler.

"Hey, Bella. I was just wondering if you had plans for lunch today. I thought maybe we could meet up," his cheerful voice greets. I'm caught off guard by the invitation.

"Um, I mean..." Should I not have lunch with him? Does it really even matter? We can be friends, right? "Sure, Tyler. Lunch sounds good," I finally stutter. "Did you have a place in mind?"

"What do you like, Bella?"

Oh, geez...he's being considerate. "Well there's a place around the corner that's good. Top Hat Cafe."

"That sounds great. What time do you do lunch?"

"I can be there at about twelve-thirty," I offer.

"Alright, it's a date. I'll see you then."

I hang up the phone feeling confused. _It's a date_? Did he mean a literal date? I suppose it doesn't matter – it can be a date if I want it to be. I _am_ allowed to date people, after all. It's not like Edward and I will be going exclusive soon. After this weekend...

I shake my head to clear it and try to return to work. My thoughts, however, are merciless; they drift to Edward, then to Tyler, and I can't help but feel uneasy about the entire situation.

I'm relieved when my phone beeps, signifying a incoming text. It's from Emmett.

_Hey lady – working hard or hardly working ? - Em_

I welcome the distraction and inconspicuously text him back while I work.

_Working hard. Some of us have to earn a living – B_

_Don't I know it. You see Edward last night? - Em_

How does he suspect these things? If he'd talked to Edward he would already know. I glance over my shoulder suspiciously, as if I might discover him lurking behind the water dispenser.

_I might have. Are you stalking me? - B_

_No, I stalk Edward. - Em_

_Well that makes sense. - B_

_So I have another idea, we should meet up to discuss it. I also thought of a name for us – the She/He-Man Player Hater Club. - Em_

I snicker towards my lap and then quickly look around to see if anyone is watching. I'm grateful for the entertainment.

_That has a nice ring to it. Should I make t-shirts? - B_

_Now you are just being a fancy Nancy. - Em_

_Just trying to contribute. - B_

_Oh, I also think I may have found you a nice fat cat for our plan. It's so big its crate had to be special ordered. - Em_

My head hits the table with a loud thud.

---

Tyler is already waiting for me when I arrive at the restaurant. He's wearing a pale yellow, tight-fitting shirt with a pair of snug khakis. His icy blue eyes, made more striking by his dark hair and tan skin, regard me warmly as they capture my gaze from twenty feet away.

Tyler was always handsome, able to charm the wits out of any lucky girl. For some reason, he had chosen to charm me; for some reason, he had also chosen to leave.

I was hurt when he'd left. It was wrong to deny it – and stupid, as I'd nearly put myself into a sugar-induced coma after wiping out the ice-cream section at the local grocery store. Friends of friends of friends knew I was hurt. But I persevered. In fact, I haven't thought of him in over a year.

But now here he is, trying to...what? Make amends? Pick up where we left off?

I'm confused.

His smile widens as he stands and pulls out my chair. Once we're seated he shifts forward, leaning towards me, and regards me with a wistful and bemused expression.

"Hey," he says. "Glad you could make it. Hope you don't mind, I ordered you a Dr. Pepper."

I don't have the heart to tell him I'm only drinking water now. Well, water and wine.

"Thank you." He hands me a menu, which I immediately begin to scan.

"So, Bella," he casually begins. "What have you been up to? It's been a while."

"Well I graduated, finally. I'm working at The Seattle Times now."

He looks pleasantly surprised. "The Seattle Times? That's great! So is being a journalist everything you always thought it would be?"

I blanch at his statement. From his mortified expression, I assume he took notice and instantly realized the error of his words.

"I'm actually, um...I'm doing editing instead."

"Oh." He seems to be lost for words. He awkwardly scratches the side of his neck. "I thought you wanted to be a journalist, though," he states.

"I did. They weren't really looking for a journalist at the time and I sort of had an opportunity to get into editing. But I like it. It's a learning experience." I have no idea why I'm explaining my job preference to him. Why does everyone have such an issue with me being an editor? It's a good job, damn it! Not everyone gets their job of choice immediately out of school.

"Well that's great," he says. "As long as you like it."

"I do," I say haughtily.

The server interrupts our awkward conversation to take our order. Luckily, when she leaves, it begins again on a much lighter note.

"So I think I found I place I like downtown," he says. "Nice neighborhood. Lots of trees, real close to the park. I think you'd like it."

I can't help but wonder why it matters what I like. We're no longer together.

"That's great," I say with a smile.

"You think you might want to come see it later?" he asks hopefully. My whole body instantly freezes as I scramble for an excuse.

"I'm uh...I'm actually hanging out with Rose today."

"Rose? You're still friends with her?"

"Yeah, of course."

He nods thoughtfully. "How is she?"

"Good. She just started seeing someone new. They really seem to be hitting it off." At his doubtful expression I add, "He seems like a keeper to me."

"Good for her. Do you like him?"

"So far." It just now occurs to me that, through Emmett, it's possible I'll see Edward later on down the road. God, that would be awkward.

At the thought of Edward, I get an unpleasant surge of guilt for dining with Tyler. But why should I feel guilty? I'm not doing anything wrong. And he was going to meet with Lauren to do...things. That's much worse.

I frown and take a large sip of my drink.

"You okay?" Tyler asks.

I clear my throat. "I'm fine."

He seems placated by my answer. At least, he doesn't press the issue. "So what about you?"

I look at him questioningly. "What about me?"

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Damn, I hadn't bargained for this question. Technically, I'm single. Edward and I haven't professed any type of commitment to each other. Not that we can, what with the bet and all.

Tyler stares at me, waiting patiently for my answer.

"Um, not really," I say uncertainly. "I've gone on a few dates with this guy but it hasn't really been more than that." I wish, deep down inside my bones, that I could answer in the affirmative. That things were different, and Edward and I could be more.

Is there something wrong with me?

Tyler looks pleased. "Me neither," he says happily. He's still leaning towards me, giving me his undivided attention, and I can't help but feel uncomfortable under his relentless scrutiny.

Our server delivers our food. I've never been so thankful for the distraction, especially when Tyler is forced to lean back and look away as she places his plate in front of him.

I dig into my food like it's my last meal, paying it much more attention than necessary in order to avoid Tyler's icy blue gaze.

After a few moments of silence Tyler begins again. "So I know you're kind of dating someone...but do you think you would want to, you know, maybe go out for dinner some night this week?" He looks at me cautiously and quickly adds, "I mean, I know it's been a while and it sucked when I left. Believe me, Bella, I hurt just as badly as you did."

I want to snort at his declaration. _He _left _me_! If he hurt, it was his own fault!

I'm torn between saying something mean and snarky and simply relenting and accepting his date. He was always such a good guy – so attentive, kind and caring. Not to mention he's extremely easy on the eyes. If anyone deserves a second chance, it's him.

But something holds me back. "Tyler, I'd really like to just take it slow for now," I say kindly. "Maybe just be friends at first."

He nods quickly, as though grateful for any semblance of acceptance. "I understand," he assures. "That's probably a better idea." A moment passes. I'm surprised when he lays his hand on top of mine across the table. "Just so you know, Bella, I'm back now. And I'm not going anywhere. So if you need anything from me, I'm just a phone call away."

I'm touched by his declaration. _God damn panty-charmers – where are all these men coming from? _

_"_Thank you," I mumble, and he pulls his hand from mine.

---

"Are you shitting me? This doesn't complicate things, it simplifies. Dump Edward's lying ass and go with Tyler. You've had your fun with him and now he'll still lose the bet." Rose's words slice through the receiver like knives.

"I don't know if I even like Tyler," I grumble. I'm in the process of pulling up to her apartment - we bicker back in forth on the phone as I make my way inside.

"You used to like him. You used to like him a lot, if I recall correctly," she states.

"That was a long time ago. I've matured since then."

"Matured to _what_, Bella?" she asks, exasperated. "You've been running around the last week playing games with some guy--"

"Your _boyfriend's best friend_," I interrupt.

"--who is just trying to _sleep _with you. At least Tyler is a good guy."

"Who's to say I have to choose? Maybe I'll stay single a bit longer."

"God, and do what? Die alone with your ninety cats?"

"Open the door, you twat. I'm here."

Her door swings open and we close our cell phones at the same time.

"I don't have a fucking cat," I grumble. "Nor am I getting one." She moves aside as I enter her apartment.

"Well could you tell Emmett that? He's been driving me fucking nuts talking about getting you a cat for this little charade."

"I _have _told him. And what's with you? The last time we spoke you were giving me ideas. Now you're going all Mother Teresa on me."

She crosses her arms, her expression one of steadfast defiance. "You're falling for him," she deadpans. "And I don't like it."

I'm shocked. I try to look offended. "I am _not_," I argue.

"Bullshit. You have a hot guy for the wedding so you don't need him anymore. Yet you refuse to let him go."

"The whole plan was to torture him!"

"Yes, cuddling on the couch sounds awful. We're lucky he's still alive." Her words ooze of sarcasm. I knew I shouldn't have told her about that.

"That wasn't planned," I defend. "I've done all the things _you_ suggested and I even went to dinner with his fucking parents."

She points one of her sharp talons right into my chest. "You want to torture him, you make him sleep on the floor." She enunciates each syllable forcefully and I take an unconscious step backwards.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Yes, and I'm sure you just 'stumbled' into his lips before you left. Before we know it you'll be 'stumbling' onto his dick."

Gosh, she can be such a bitch sometimes.

I don't respond. Hell, to be honest, I feel as though she's just sucker-punched me in the gut. I'm without words.

She sees my wounded expression and softens. "Bella, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a bitch." I snort, but she ignores me. "I'm just worried about you."

I'm glad she's finished lashing out at me, yet I can't help the pain in my chest at what has proved to be another hectic and exhausting day. "Well I can make my own decisions," I sullenly state. "I'm an adult."

"You know I love you, Bella. But if he hurts you I'll have to cut his dick off. You know you don't want that to happen." Her tone is completely serious and I smile despite my glum mood.

"I actually like knowing I have that sort of security," I admit.

"Good. I'm not trying to dictate your life, you know."

"I know."

"I just want you to make wise decisions."

"I know my limits, Rose."

"I know you do."

---

Fortunately, Rose allows us to change the subject. She tells me about Emmett and how her father is badgering her to come visit. She bitches for fifteen minutes straight about her formerly favorite restaurant overcooking her burger twice in a row. Then she explains, in great detail, why we shouldn't eat hamburgers anymore anyway.

Things feel more like normal.

We no longer discuss Edward or Tyler and for that I'm grateful. I don't feel as though I can have a logical conversation regarding either of them at the moment.

Now that I'm alone, trapped with my thoughts, I feel more forlorn. I enter my apartment, change clothes, and commit the ultimate injustice as I pop in the fourth season of Lost.

Fuck it.

I try to watch, but my mind frequently wanders. I think of Tyler and Edward.

Tyler is such a nice guy. He always treated me with respect, anticipated my needs. He got along with my friends.

And then there's Edward, the one guy I can't even figure out why I like. He's attentive, I reason – he did stop by last night when he knew I was upset, after all. And he's respectful – no wait, scratch that one. The bet isn't respectful at all. Damn.

Why _do_ I like Edward? It's frustrating – I know I shouldn't, but that seems to be a moot point. I flop onto the couch, bury my face into the fabric, and groan out my displeasure. Perhaps Rose is right. It's only been a week and I'm already in too deep.

I lay this way – face down on the couch – until I doze. My phone eventually rings and I'm not sure if it's been minutes or hours since I've been home. Suspecting it's Tyler, I begrudgingly peel myself from the couch and grope for where it's vibrating noisily on the coffee table.

I'm surprised to see Edward's name. My insides do a happy twist.

"Hey beautiful," he greets me. "Did I call at a bad time?"

I'm so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open, but I happily lay on the couch with the phone to my ear. His words are the first soothing things I've heard in this whole long, exhausting day.

"No, I was just watching TV," I inform, too tired to make myself sound less pathetic. Geez, when am I not watching TV these days?

"That's good. I was just – I was just thinking about you and wanted to tell you goodnight." His words sound awkward, as if he's having trouble articulating what he wants to say.

"Are you at home?" I wonder. I assume he must be.

"Yes."

"Alone?" I don't know why I ask – the word just jumps out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"Yes," he repeats, his tone a bit more guarded this time. I can't help the smile that forms at his admission. I'm just pleased to know he's not off caterwauling at some skank's house while I'm away.

"Good."

He sighs loudly and I suddenly yearn for his presence. I want him here, in person, cuddling with me on the couch. I want his hot breath on my back, not on the receiver of the phone.

"I had kind of a shitty day today," he admits. I frown.

"You want to tell me about it?"

"It's just work. It just kind of stresses me out sometimes." His words linger, as if there's more he wants to say. Finally, he chuckles. "I don't mean to call and whine to you. You just – I don't know, I guess you make me feel better. And I was thinking about you."

I'm surprised over his fumbled words. "I had a stressful day, too," I tell him.

"You did? How come?"

I think about it, quickly realizing I can't reveal the source of my stress to him. "You know...work and stuff," I say coyly.

"Yeah," he agrees, and the word seems to linger, fade, and vanish between us. The pull to have him near increases tenfold.

"I kind of miss you," I quietly admit, as if the words are surprising to my own ears. In a way, they are, yet I've known all day that I miss him.

"I think I kind of miss you, too," he says lightly, and I can hear the humor in his words. I'm grinning like an idiot, my face pressed against the couch again, and I can't fathom the reasoning behind my giddy behavior.

"Any surprise visits tonight?" I wonder, already knowing not to get my hopes up.

"Unfortunately, no. I got off work late and have an early day tomorrow."

"So a surprise visit tomorrow?"

"Hmm." He pretends to think about it. "Play your cards right and I may grace you with my presence."

"Ha! What should I do? Compliment your big head some more?"

"Are you implying that you've complimented it already?"

"Depends – I've gone on and on about how big it is. Do you consider that a compliment?"

"Is it good to have a big head?"

"No."

"Then why would that be a compliment?"

I chuckle. "I don't know. I'm sleepy. And your head is so big sometimes it obstructs my internal vision so that I can't think of anything else to say."

He laughs. "Have you created a new line of jokes? Big head jokes?"

I giggle. I giggle so uncontrollably that I wonder if I've gone insane. Surely Edward must think the same. "Hey, they're interchangeable," I offer. "Your head is so big it has its own area code. Or your head is so big that when you ran away they had to use all four sides of the milk carton."

"Yeah, yeah," Edward chuckles. "You made your point – you're a standard comedian."

"Nothing standard about me," I quip.

"Don't I know it."

"What are you saying, Eduardo? You don't think I'm standard?"

"Bella, you are far, _far_ beyond the standard in anything you do," he assures. "But that's not a bad thing."

I'm pleased at his statement. Pleased and sleepy and absolutely reveling in the fact that I may see him soon. I suppose I need to mess with him some more, even though these schemes are not sounding nearly as fun as they did in the beginning. But I need to do it. Rose is right. Torture him or let him go.

"Hmm. Well that's why I'm so awesome," I reply drowsily. He responds, but suddenly his voice sounds far away, like someone speaking to me through a closed car window. I can hear the low, soft melody of his voice; I just can't understand what he's trying to say.

I know I need to end our call before I succumb to sleep, but I can't. His words soothe me even when they're teasing, and I discover that this is the most relaxed I've felt all day.

"Go to sleep, beautiful." His soothing words are fading away. There's now blackness all around, his voice in the background unnaturally soft as I drift into a peaceful slumber. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

So it's official...I have the best readers EVER. All your good luck vibes landed me a set of straight A's. Yeah, cause I'm awesome that way. Awesomely nerdy, that is. I know.

Thanks to ms_ambrosia for betaing, as always. Passionmama is still feeding me evil ideas...she's an unstoppable force I tell you. #2, I hope the meds helped with your reaction to Tyler this chapter.

And trust me...I KNOW you guys want the reveal to happen. I want it, too. And I have a plan for it. Just hang on for a little while longer...or don't, that's completely up to you. But I hope you will.

I'm mybluesky1 on twitter, or you can stop by the thread at www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&p=855440. I post teasers at both.

So who thinks Edward and Tyler need to meet? *shyly raises hand* As always, I'd love to hear what you think...


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 19

EPOV

How I ever thought I could go to a nine-thirty meeting and actually _function_ after sleeping on the couch with Bella is beyond me. I'm still not sure how that even happened. I wasn't tired when I'd gone over there – no, I was wide awake, nervous as hell, palms sweaty, secretly harboring the fear that Bella might shun me and refuse my company from here on out. It would have never mattered before. No girl has ever mattered before.

But Bella, for some Goddamn reason I can't comprehend, matters.

I'm forced to engage myself in the meeting. I'm forced to forget, for just a moment, all my worries that have plagued me for the last week. But during those short lapses when someone else is speaking, my mind is driven into a frenzy with thoughts and scenarios and what-ifs.

I imagine how things would be different had I never gone to the club that night. If I had never ran into James. I wouldn't know Bella. I wouldn't know her and I wouldn't be intruding into her life in the most disrespectful of ways. Things would be better for her.

Then again, I also entertain the notion that I had asked her out on normal terms. That we had normal dates and normal conversations without these feelings of guilt and fear lingering in the back of my mind.

But it doesn't matter. Imagining these alternate scenarios doesn't change anything.

It's meeting after meeting today. This alone puts me in a bitter mood because I fucking hate meetings. I try, again, to push Bella out of my mind so that I can work. Again, I'm unsuccessful.

I don't have time to go out for lunch. I nearly forgo it altogether when my assistant Jane, graciously thinking ahead, enters my office with a turkey sandwich from the local deli and a large cup of coffee. She easily breezes inside and sets everything on my desk. "I thought you might want something," she informs me kindly. "It's not good to skip lunch. Did you even have breakfast?" She's being conversational, but unfortunately I don't have the time. With a tight-lipped smile, I nod.

"Yes, Jane." _If coffee counts as sustenance._ "Thank you."

She takes a hint and, with a small smile, backs out the door and closes it behind her.

My stomach's growling, protesting, but I try to squeeze in a bit more work before I pause to eat. My phone's vibrating relentlessly in my pocket but I ignore it again and again.

I practically inhale my coffee while I'm working. Twenty minutes later, I pull the sandwich towards me while simultaneously pulling my phone from my pocket. I have four missed calls and one voicemail message. All from James.

I scowl down at my phone. I scowl and chew my sandwich and debate whether or not to call him back. It's a wonder he hasn't started calling my work phone by now.

I don't want to talk to him. It's a dreadful thing, carrying on a conversation with James, and it's something I avoid at all costs. But I know he's bound to call again if he doesn't hear from me.

I send him a quick text, hoping to placate him.

_I'm working, can't talk right now. - E_

My phone vibrates seconds later.

_Alright, just checking in. Hoping for a progress report or something. - J_

_Perhaps you should check back closer to the end of the 3 weeks. - E_

_Gonna take that long, huh? - J_

_I told you she's a pistol. Might as well be wearing a fucking chastity belt. Finding the key will be damn near impossible. - J_

I'm not sure what he's talking about, what with his rambles about keys and belts. I don't respond, hoping he's had enough to leave me alone for a few days. But of course I'm never that lucky.

_You're not going soft on me, are you? You seemed pretty cocky in the bar. It seems if you really wanted to fuck her it would have happened by now. - J_

I stare at the screen in revulsion, wishing James was here now so that I could give him a piece of my mind. I hate this twisted little mess I've gotten myself into. But more than anything, I despise James.

I stop myself from typing a response by reasoning that he's not worth the effort.

Then he texts me again. Provoking, always provoking.

_No response? I knew it. You shouldn't make big bets if you're not man enough to carry them out. - J_

I know I shouldn't. I know somewhere, in the faint recesses of my mind, that this is wrong. But I find my hands snatching the phone up of their own volition. They type out a response, and they hit send.

_Like I said before, she's just a bet. It'll only take til Saturday, tops. Then you can stop your fucking interferences and get out of our lives for good. - E_

I feel remorse the second the "Message Sent" notice appears. But it's too late to take it back.

Bella's not _just_ a bet. Not anymore.

It takes James a few minutes to reply. When he does, I chuck the phone into my desk drawer, hoping to cover and hide our conversation, and perhaps the previous week altogether.

_We'll see. - J_

---

I'm still morose even after work, a condition made much worse by a phone call from Lauren.

I don't answer. What would I say to her? After my phone beeps, I tentatively listen to her voicemail message.

"Hey Edward. I'm not sure what's going on with you right now but, to be honest, it has me a little worried. You blew me off all of a sudden, you never called me back like you said you would, and now it seems like you're avoiding my calls. What's going on?

"I was just calling to see what you're up to. I miss you. You can call me back tonight...it doesn't matter how late. Hopefully I'll talk to you soon?"

Her last statement sounds more like a question.

The message ends just as I hit delete.

I actually feel honest-to-goodness nauseated after listening to her message. My stomach churns and my mouth waters in that upleasant way. I don't know what's come over me - is it really possible to become emotionally sick?

I lay down on my couch, fighting wave after wave of nausea, a light sheen of sweat building on my forehead, and the prospect of calling Lauren back doesn't even cross my mind. I don't think I could manage it even if it's what I wanted.

A few minutes pass and the sickness eventually subsides. It crosses my mind that I may have eaten something disagreeable, but I know, somewhere in the back of my mind, that this isn't true.

I stay that way for a long time. The soft hum of the TV lulls me and I allow my mind to roam, to consider Bella and James and Alice and Jasper – all the people inadvertently involved in a bet that never should have happened. I don't eat dinner. I'm not hungry.

I don't know what time it is when I pull myself up the stairs. It's dark outside, but has been since I first collapsed onto the couch. I have my phone clasped firmly in my hand.

I sit on the bed and run my hands through my hair in exasperation. Then I rest my face in my hands, my elbows on my knees, and I continue to think. And I yearn. I yearn and I yearn and I yearn until it just doesn't seem possible to yearn anymore.

I yearn for her voice. I yearn to tell her goodnight. Without further consideration, I pick up the phone and dial her number.

She answers on the fourth ring. Her voice is thick with sleep and I worriedly glance at the clock illuminated on my bedside table. It's nine forty-seven.

"Hey beautiful," I greet her. "Did I call at a bad time?"

It sounds as if she's shifting around a bit. Then she hums. "No, I was just watching TV."

Those six simple words, when said by her voice, calm me. They make my entire day seem just a little less shitty. They make my previous bout of nausea seem like a distant and forgotten thing, as if the sound of her voice as the power to heal.

And in a way, it does.

---

BPOV

The following day, work is uneventful. I eat lunch at my desk. I receive no calls from Edward _or _Tyler. Then, through some stroke of good luck, I manage to escape a whole ten minutes early.

I'm barely home from work five minutes before there's a pounding on my door. My heart flutters – it obviously thinks it's Edward – and I walk slowly on my way to answer, not wanting to seem too eager. Then I wonder if I'm being obvious by taking my time.

_Oh, for the love of all that is holy._

"Who is it?" I call out loudly.

"It's me, Edward." The voice is unnaturally high, unnaturally girly while still obviously a male. Frowning, I stand on my tiptoes and peer out the peephole, rolling my eyes when I find Emmett's frighteningly magnified head on the other side.

I wrench the door open. "What do you--" I stop, frozen in horror as I spot Emmett holding an animal crate big enough for a medium-sized dog. Except there isn't a dog inside. It's a fury, monstrously huge, howling cat.

"Hey, Bells," Emmett greets. He pushes past me, bringing the obviously distraught beast inside. Its mournful mewls instantly fill my small apartment.

I slam the door closed behind us. "Um, what the fuck is _that_?" I demand.

"_That_," Emmett says, placing the crate on the floor, "has a name. It's Ursula. And for the next three days she's gonna be your new best friend. And Edward's new best friend, let's not forget."

I start shaking my head frantically. Back and forth, again and again. "No. No, no, no, no, no. I told you _no_ cat."

"Come on, Bella. She's a loner."

"Are you shitting me? Are you really doing this?"

"I thought we agreed to this. You know, to fuck with Edward." He reaches down and unhooks the latch on the door of the cage. I expect the cat to run out, perhaps make a beeline for underneath the bed – or to the wash tub, or wherever the hell she will fit – but even that quick little spurt of motion is too much. Instead, she wobbles through the door, ears held back in caution, her stumpy legs just barely visible beneath her protruding and sashaying belly. As if she isn't huge enough already, her long, white hair adds another two inches, giving her the appearance of a squat, ornery polar bear.

Her stomach drags the ground as she inches out the door, where she sits shortly afterwards for a breather. She looks up at both of us, squinty eyes and squashed face regarding us carefully.

"See, Bella? This is Ursula," Emmett croons. He scoops Ursula up and I stare in horror as her torso stretches out before her hind legs are lifted off the ground. She's nearly half my height. Emmett whips her into his arms like a giant, hairy baby.

"What the fucking hell, Emmett? Where did you even get that thing? Is it a science experiment?"

Emmett shoots me the hairiest eyeball I've ever seen. "Be nice to her. Not everyone can have a hot body," he says seriously as he scratches Ursula behind her ears. She lays in his arms like a tub of lard, all puddy and no bones. "And a friend of mine is visiting home and needed someone to watch her. His mom is allergic to cats," he explains.

"And by someone he meant...you, correct?"

"Well, yes. But it all just worked out so perfectly. It's like a blessing straight from God."

"Who named it Ursula?"

"His kid. She's a Little Mermaid fan."

I'm not surprised she named it Ursula and not Ariel. Not one little bit.

"I don't think I can afford to feed that thing," I protest sourly. Ursula stares blankly at me from where she's being rocked in Emmett's arms. It's unnerving.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I have everything out in the car. Here, I'll let you two get acquainted." He sets her back on the floor and slides past me.

"Emmett, no! You are not leaving her with me!" I protest, but he's already out the door.

The silence in ominous once Emmett is gone. Ursula stares up at me; I stare down at her. We glower at each other.

"You are _so_ not staying here," I tell her. She blinks impassively.

Emmett comes back with a giant bag of cat food and the biggest litter box I've ever seen. He quickly sets them down and scrambles back out the door before I can recover from my shock, his mutterings of cat litter lingering in his wake. He returns with a bag of litter and a diaper bag full of toys. Everything is suddenly happening so quickly that I'm unable to wrap my head around it.

"Where's your bathroom? The litter box should probably go in there." He's heading down my hall before I can stop him.

"Emmett!" I hiss. "You can't do this! What would your friend think of you leaving his cat with a stranger!"

"It's no problem, Bella," he assures. "Trust me, he was just thankful to find a cat-sitter on such short notice." He pauses, suddenly having a thought. "Wait a second – are you gonna take her to Edward's house? Cause then I won't bother setting everything up."

"No, don't bother, because you're taking her back with you."

"Are you kidding? Edward's face will be _epic _when he sees her. He doesn't even like small cats!"

"Maybe _you_ should take it to his house and torture him yourself," I say indignantly. I'm nearly pouting as Emmett proceeds to pour the litter into the pan, effectively ignoring me. "Are you listening to me?"

"Bella, you're over-thinking this," Emmett says calmly. "It's to mess with Edward. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"There are other ways to mess with Edward," I point out.

"We talked about this. I don't know why you're so surprised. I told you yesterday--"

"I told _you_ no cat! You didn't listen! You're exactly like every other male in the universe."

He mutters something unintelligible as a cloud of litter dust fills my tiny bathroom; we both start coughing and waving our hands in front of our faces to clear the air.

"Good God, Emmett," I sputter. "No cat should require that much litter. That thing is practically a sandbox. Did they get it at the toy store? I barely have room to walk in here as it is." I flip on the exhaust fan, forcing myself not to imagine the massive dookie piles that thing is sure to produce.

"We need to show her where the litter box is," Emmett says, ignoring me. My continued protests fall on deaf ears as he drags Ursula to her litter box and drops her inside. She tiptoes around as if the litter is soiled before flopping over the side and waddling out of the bathroom.

We follow her to the kitchen and, just when I think things couldn't get any worse, Emmett produces a long list from his back pocket. He unfolds it uneasily, his eyes flickering to mine as he regards me with caution. "This is a list of her...er, needs. I'll just stick it on the refrigerator." He slaps it beneath a magnet.

"Her _needs_?" I question, surprised.

"Yeah, you know. Simple stuff." He checks his watch. "Oh! Man, I really gotta get going. I was supposed to meet Rose ten minutes ago."

I know that's a lie. His phone would've blown a hole through his pocket by now had Rose been kept waiting for any amount of time.

"Emmett, I'm not so sure about this--"

"Just keep her tonight, at least. Edward is still coming over, isn't he?"

My curiosity gets the best of me. "How did you know about that? Did he say something to you?"

"Sure he did. Now I gotta go, okay? Rose is gonna be pissed. You and Ursula play nice." He's suddenly in a hurry, quickly disappearing out the door and slamming it shut behind him.

I immediately head for the list, the dread weighing down my stomach like a heavy rock. The handwriting is small and sloppy, yet there's so much information it still manages to cover the entire paper despite its tiny script.

**Ursula's Care List:**

**She eats four times a day, at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and bedtime. She only eats her food once it's soft so you'll have to mix it with milk and let it sit a while. If she cries at night, feed her again.**

**She needs to be brushed every day, otherwise her hair will knot up and there will be cat hair all over the furniture. If it looks like she's losing a lot of hair she's probably underfed. Feed her again.**

**If she claws the furniture, she just wants attention. You can try playing with her using her toys. If that doesn't work, feed her again.**

**In the small compartment on the right side of the bag there is a cat-nip filled toy. Only use in emergencies. Be sure to have some food soft and ready because cat-nip makes her very hungry and you'll have to feed her again.**

**Make sure you flush her mess immediately after she uses the litter box. She doesn't like to get inside a soiled litter box and will go behind the couch or under the bed if her box isn't clean. If her litter box is clean then she's just doing this for attention - either play with her or feed her again.**

**She loves spaghetti noodles, both raw and cooked. You shouldn't leave any lying around as it upsets her stomach. But if you catch her searching for them then she's hungry. Feed her again.**

At the end there is a phone number with instructions to call in an emergency.

Who the fuck is this guy? Does he weigh a thousand pounds like his cat? And what kind of emergency can possibly occur with an inactive animal? I sigh and roll my eyes. When I look up I spot Ursula struggling to heave her massive body onto the couch.

"Don't think you can just waltz in here and get all comfortable," I tell her. She ignores me, panting with her endeavor. I eventually walk over and help her up, nearly straining my back as I do so.

_Lord, help me._

---

By seven o'clock, Ursula and I have taken to avoiding each other. Or perhaps I should say that I've taken to avoiding _her_, as she still hasn't moved from her spot on the couch. I mix her up a large batch of food, adding milk as instructed, but she hasn't touched it and it has since turned into a glob of gelatinous goo with quite an offensive odor. I quickly retreat to my bedroom for the next hour to avoid said cat and odor.

Edward still hasn't called, although I specifically remember him saying he'd stop by. Or at least try. Shouldn't he confirm these plans with a phone call today? Perhaps he's changed his mind – I continuously fight the urge to call him up myself and instead busy myself with a book to pass the time.

I start to doze a few minutes later. I've read the book so many times that it acts like a sleep aid more than anything else. Eventually, I drag myself back to the living room and take up residence on the recliner. When stretched out, Ursula takes up over half the couch. She doesn't even flinch as I make a cup of coffee and sit down.

"Don't you have a bed or something?" I ask her. Her ear twitches in reply. "Well you can't just take up the whole couch, you know. You have to share." Again, she ignores me. I already regret helping her get onto the couch to begin with. It's as if she senses her current advantage and refuses to get down in case she can't get back up again.

I flip through the channels on the TV for a few minutes and nearly jump out of my skin when the phone rings. I hasten to answer, breathing a sigh of relief when I see it's Edward.

"Hey, Bella. I was wondering if you're still free tonight," he says. I automatically grin just from the sound of his voice and then I roll my eyes, grimly conscious of how ridiculous I am.

"Um, yeah. I'm still free." I force casualty into my words. "Are you still coming over?" I inquire.

"Yes." He pauses, the lapse of noise awkward and misplaced. "I should be there in about fifteen minutes."

_Fifteen minutes!_ I grin like a fool knowing he was already on his way.

"Were you already near Seattle?" I ask slowly, feigning nonchalance.

"Uh, no." He chuckles uncomfortably. "I was already on my way. I guess I was just hoping you'd still be free."

Either that or he's realized that I am, in fact, pathetically single six nights out of seven. On a good week. A _very _good week.

"Good. I guess I'll see you in a few." My words betray my smile, but I hope he doesn't notice.

After we say goodbye I buzz around the apartment tidying up small things. I tug the throw from underneath Ursula and fold it neatly over the back of the couch. I try to coax Ursula from the couch by holding the bowl of foul-smelling food beneath her nose. She doesn't budge. I eventually store the bowl inside the bathroom and shut the door, leaving it open only a crack so that she can reach her litter box whenever nature calls. I'm in the middle of loading the dishwasher when I realize that, only a few days ago, I had been purposefully destroying Edward's home to get a rise out of him. Now I'm cleaning _my _home in anticipation of his arrival. _What am I doing_?

How confusing. I don't even know whether or not my apartment should be clean! With a sigh, I finish my current task, reasoning that it needs to be done anyway. Might as well do it now.

I work myself into a sort of frenzy while waiting on Edward to arrive. I know I shouldn't look forward to his company this much. I know I'm just setting myself up for heartache.

I know, but at the moment I don't care.

His eventual knock on the door comes as a melody of sorts. _Knock. Knock. Knockknock....knock._

I count to ten in my head, slowly, then stand and answer with as much grace as I can manage considering my mounting anxiety. I swing the door open and my breath hitches at the sight of him, though he's only dressed casually in a gray t-shirt and jeans. I realize I've rarely seen him in casual attire and it's very nice. But then, he could make anything look nice.

I appraise him a tad bit too long. Long enough to elicit the cocky half-smile from where it usually lurks, barely out of sight.

I don't bother commenting on his arrogance this time. I move aside so that he can enter.

"Hey beautiful," he greets me. The nickname falls from his lips with an easy finesse.

"Hey yourself."

He leans down to kiss me, "chaste peck" written all over his quick movements, but in a rush of motion that's too quick for me to fully grasp, his lips are pressed firmly against mine, the force sending me stumbling back a step or two. I grab a fistful of his shirt at the same time that he grabs my hips to steady me. Despite this commotion we remain latched onto one another and soon I'm giggling against his lips, amused at our obvious lack of grace, and I can feel his smile against my own.

"Well that was quite an entrance," I tease, but he silences me with another searing kiss.

A few moments later he rests his forehead against mine. "God, I've been thinking about doing that all day," he admits. I detect a hint of uncertainty as his eyes find mine. It's an emotion that puzzles me.

"Me, too," I say. All day, all week – is there really a difference?

He kisses me again and I'm elated. _Finally, _it seems as though we can just kiss without all the awkward doubt and uncertainty that always seems to be peeking around the corner. It's a wonderful feeling to be able to kiss him with such wild abandon this way. I'm doing what my mother always told me I should do – living in the moment – and at this moment all I want to do is fucking kiss Edward Cullen until he can't breathe.

Rose won't approve. It's lucky she's not here. And I shall _not _be disclosing this little lip-lock session to her – no, not after yesterday.

Edward kisses my forehead and steps back. I frown at the sudden rush of cool air against my skin.

"Have you eaten dinner?" he wonders. I realize, for perhaps the first time tonight, that I actually haven't had dinner and I'm hungry. The anticipation of his arrival has put my nerves in such a twist that the thought hasn't even crossed my mind.

"No, I haven't," I answer. "You want to order out?" I can think of nothing more appealing than spending the evening with Edward here. Perhaps we can watch a movie. And kiss...lots and lots and lots of kissing.

"Yeah, that sounds great, actually," he says. "You have anything in mind?"

I scrounge up some menus from the kitchen drawer and we settle on Chinese food. I order while standing in the kitchen; Edward walks towards the living room and I watch as he freezes, his body stiffening with his back to me. With a frown, I hang up the phone.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says uneasily. "Um, what is that?" I look towards the couch and it dawns on me. Of course he's referring to the giant sloth currently taking over my furniture. "You got a cat?" he goes on.

"Oh! Well, um, I'm just cat-sitting," I clarify. "For a friend. Her name's Ursula. She's very...er—friendly."

"Your friend or the cat?"

"The cat."

"Oh." He stares at her another moment, not moving from his spot. "Well that's, uh...very nice of you," he finally says. "To watch their cat."

"Um, yeah. You know...they'd do the same for me," I awkwardly lie. "Hey, they said the food should be here in half an hour. You want to watch some TV or something?"

He nods and we head for the living room. With Ursula taking up half the couch there isn't enough room for us both to sit there. One of us will have to sit in the chair while the other accompanies the giant cat.

Obviously, that's not about to happen.

"Ursula, you need to move now," I tell her, nudging her shoulders slightly. "You remember what I said about sharing?"

Edward is watching me with a very amused expression. "Who named her Ursula?" he wonders.

"Oh, uh...my friend did. I mean, his daughter did."

"He?"

"I work with him. It's kind of a long story," I say dismissively, not wanting to continue on the current conversation. Luckily, Edward lets it go. I continue pushing at the cat, trying to provoke her to move her ass in the nicest way possible.

"I can just sit over here," Edward offers, but at the very same moment Ursula shoots me a lethal glare before plopping down off the couch and wobbling away.

I nearly fist pump the air at my victory.

"Ah, there we go," I say, taking a seat. The cushion is nice and warm from Ursula's body heat. Edward chuckles as he sits beside me.

"Anything in particular you want to watch? I don't really know what's on right now..." I begin flipping through the channels mindlessly. I can't seem to focus on the TV when Edward is just a couple of inches away. A couple of inches too many.

"Anything is fine," he assures. Perhaps he's just as disconcerted by the space as I am; he drops his hand, causing it to graze my thigh. He leaves it there, and even though my leg is covered by a pair of jeans, the small amount of contact nearly drives me insane. My focus zeroes in on that spot. Edward notices and quickly pulls his hand away.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and I want to scream at him for moving. Instead, I clumsily divert my attention.

"It's fine," I say. A moment of silence drifts between us.

"You have a better day today?" Edward finally asks. I'm surprised, having momentarily forgotten our discussion from last night.

"Oh yeah, today was fine. Work's actually been going really well lately – not too hectic."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

He shifts beside me and I can tell he's debating his response. "Work was good," he says slowly. He rubs the back of his neck uneasily and I'm happy to realize that I'm getting good at reading his body language. Right now, he's troubled by something. But what?

Before I can ask, he adds, "You know, I actually felt better all day just knowing I'd see you tonight." He frowns, as if dissatisfied with this conclusion, and looks at me.

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask, unable to stop myself.

"No, Bella. I guess it's not."

I want to be happy by this admission, yet I can't help but be a bit perturbed by his nonverbal response. Is he lying? Does he feel guilty for coming over? Is he upset because maybe he does, in fact, like me, despite everything?

I sigh and look away, not knowing what to say without revealing too much.

I feel Edward's hand on my chin, gently redirecting my focus to him. "Bella?"

I smile weakly. "I'm fine, Edward." He doesn't look convinced but, nonetheless, he relaxes.

Then he furrows his brow suspiciously. "I worry about you when you call me Edward," he states seriously. I can't help but giggle.

"You're right," I agree. "Must of had a lapse in judgment or something."

He smiles softly and lowers his lips to mine, kissing me sweetly. My eyes flutter closed as I relish the feel of his lips against mine, the smell of his faded aftershave. I shift, wanting to get closer but not knowing how.

I twist towards him, my left leg bending as I pull it onto the couch, but this doesn't help close the gap. In lieu of climbing into his lap again, I accept this small distance and run my hand over the hard planes of his chest, across smooth skin, and finally into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Our tongues touch, each tentatively stroking the other, and it begins sweet and careful – a full two days of bad luck finally being eased by each other.

Then Edward gently pushes my shoulder, forcing me back, and I feel his hard chest against mine as he follows. We only break apart for a moment – just long enough to catch our breaths – and then his mouth is on my jaw, my neck, and back to my lips again. Except this time, it isn't soft and sweet. This time, it's needy and passionate, sweet caresses turned to longing, and I'm responding with the same fervor.

His fingers are on my cheek with feather-soft touches. They travel down the front of my body, across my breasts, and down my stomach before resting over the cotton shirt at my side.

I twist my hand into his hair and gently pull. He moans into my mouth, the vibrations sending a chill through my body.

There's a sudden knock at the door which seems unusually loud; it startles us both and we tear apart from one another as if caught in a comprimising position. We both take a moment to catch our breaths while I try to slow my racing heart.

There's another knock, even louder this time.

"Must be the Chinese food," I say, quickly standing. Suddenly Edward is behind me, gently grabbing my wrist to stop me.

"_I'm _buying dinner," he says, his tone leaving little room for argument. I nod as he gives me one more quick kiss and fishes his wallet from his back pocket. I head to the kitchen for drinks while Edward gets the door.

As I'm pulling glasses from the cabinet, I hear another man's voice. I assume they're discussing money or the food and don't bother listening to what they're saying.

Then I hear my name, loud and clear. "Bella." I whirl around to the door and gasp when I see Tyler standing there, a bottle of wine and small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Both men stare at me. I try to look at Tyler, to decipher exactly what the hell he's doing here, but I can't tear my gaze from Edward's face.

He's pissed. Pissed and...hurt?

It pains me and also helps me find my voice. "What's going on?" My eyes finally flutter to Tyler, who's openly glaring at Edward.

Edward recaptures my gaze with his own. "That's what I'd like to know."

* * *

The wonderful Olinka has given me tons of useful information on copy editing and journalism, so hopefully I'll appear smarter when I write about it from here on out. Just note that whenever I referred to Bella as an editor I really meant copy editor...my mistake. We'll see more of her job a little later on.

Please note that no fat kitties were harmed in the writing of this fic. Ursula is much loved and very well-fed, obviously.

Thanks as always to ms_ambrosia for her awesome beta skills and to passionmama for everything she does. This fic wouldn't be the same without them. Thank you to all my readers...hearing what you think makes my day.

I realized I've been posting the wrong link to the thread for weeks now...or I should say FF's link restrictions got the best of me. Whoospie. The right link is www(dot)twilighted(dot)net(slash)forum(slash)?f=44&p=857415 if you want to chat. And you can follow me on Twitter at mybluesky1 for occasional updates...I usually post teasers at both.

Until next time... -mybluesky


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 20

BPOV

Tyler holds a very pretty bouquet of orchids and lilies in his right hand. I remember once telling him that I liked orchids, long ago, and I'm surprised that he remembers.

But now he's nearly crushed them all in his death grip. They appear to wither beneath the pressure.

I keep my tone steady as I work to diffuse the situation. "Tyler, what are you doing here?"

His gaze moves from Edward to me. "I came to see you, obviously. But I guess I came at a bad time."

Edward frowns and looks at the floor. What a cluster fuck this has suddenly become.

"Can I speak to you outside?" I hiss at Tyler.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" he says instead, and I want to fall on the floor and die at the absurdity of the question.

But Edward looks at me expectantly and I feel outnumbered.

I glare at Tyler. "Edward, this is Tyler. A _friend_ of mine. Tyler, Edward."

They don't shake hands or greet each other with friendliness. They don't really acknowledge each other at all.

"Care if I put this in the refrigerator?" Tyler holds up the wine for both of us to see, then sweeps past me before I can protest. "It really needs to be chilled. I had a long drive over so I'm sure it's kind of warm by now--"

Edward looks uncomfortable, among other things. I'm sure my face matches the red of Tyler's parka.

"Tyler? Outside?" I interrupt, trying again.

"I can just go," Edward suddenly offers. Tyler looks more than pleased at the idea.

"No, I'd rather you didn't." This time, I can't keep the hard edge out of my tone. I'm unbelievably annoyed by this. "Tyler? Outside?"

He reluctantly nods and steps out the door. Edward's eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second as I slide past him, but it's impossible to catch the emotion contained there.

The hallway is quiet. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart and the adrenaline coursing through my veins at this sudden confrontation. The flower wrapper crinkles as Tyler lets his arm fall to his side.

Not wanting to disturb my neighbors, I keep my voice low.

"What in the world are you doing here?" I ask him.

Tyler looks up at me, surprised. "I was trying to surprise you," he mumbles.

That seems pretty obvious. I think. But I'm still irritated.

"A phone call would have been nice. I have company, Tyler." I say this with much exasperation, hoping to convey how utterly piqued I am.

His eyes flash as he looks at me. "Yeah, I heard about _him_."

I gasp. _Holy fuck._ Does he know about the bet?

My next words are low and carry a threatening edge. "What are you talking about?" If he knows about the bet, I may have to murder him right here in the hallway. And neither of us wants that.

He begins shifting around, swaying and taking small steps, unable to hold still.

"I talked to Rosalie."

I gasp again.

_Oh Holy Father, please have mercy on my friend's spirit, for she is about to die._

My mind begins racing frantically. I've never felt so...betrayed. And by my best friend, no less.

Telling Emmett is one thing. Telling Tyler is just too much.

"You did...what...I mean...what the hell...what did she tell you?" I can barely formulate the words at this point.

"That he's a skeeze and you can do better."

It's as if my entire body sighs with the relief that floods through me. But it doesn't dissipate my my other worries. Not at all.

"Why are you guys even talking about me? And flowers and wine?" I gesture at the crumpled bouquet.

He looks guiltily at the flowers. "That was Rose's suggestion. She said you never meet romantic guys anymore and that maybe if you were treated right for a change then you'd expect more out of people. _I _wanted to call first, but she said that would ruin the gesture. So I figured I'd take her advice, for once." He huffs. "Fat lot of good that did."

I can't believe my ears. I'm tempted to run inside and clean them, just so I can listen again and hopefully make sense of this situation.

"Are we forgetting something here, Tyler? _You _left _me! _You knew I couldn't leave but that certainly didn't stop you from going." My pitch rises a bit as old memories come flooding back.

He looks exasperated. "Come _on_, Bella. You know how much I needed to be by my family. And I tried to keep in touch with you..."

"Yes," I interrupt him, my words sarcastic, "because seeing you twice a year would've just been _lovely_."

"Bella..."

"Look, I need to go back inside," I interrupt again. "I have a date and I'm being rude."

Tyler's disgruntled by what just transpired. So am I.

"Fine," he says with a sigh. He looks at the dejected flowers. "Do you at least want to take these?" he asks hopefully.

I stare at the bouquet impassively. Even if I wanted them, which I don't, I couldn't run inside and wave them in front of Edward's face.

This is assuming that Edward doesn't leave as soon as this is over.

I slowly shake my head. "No."

Tyler sighs loudly, his whole chest heaving. "Well, alright." He looks at the flowers as if he doesn't know what to do with them anymore. "Sorry I ruined your date, Bella. I guess I'll see you later."

"Sure," I agree, hoping he can leave on a somewhat friendly note. Tyler's a good guy – he usually has good intentions. He'd make a good friend if his feelings allowed it.

But there's too much history with Tyler. Too much happiness and heartache and memories, all of which exist within a closed chapter of my life. A chapter I'm not keen on revisiting.

He walks off with a mumbled goodbye and I slip back inside my apartment, mentally preparing myself for the next dreaded conversation.

I spot Edward sitting on the couch. He's obviously not relaxed – he's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He's staring at the TV blankly, but looks up when I enter.

I half expect him to sprint for the door, but he doesn't move as I approach. He doesn't look angry, just tense. Uneasy.

"Who was that, Bella?" he asks, and his voice is so calm it's slightly chilling.

I swallow and stop in the middle of the living room, facing him. "Um, no one. I mean, he's an ex," I hastily try to explain, "but I haven't seen him in years. We just bumped into one another the other day and apparently he got the wrong idea."

He raises his eyebrows and nods, his gaze shifting to the floor. "An ex?"

"It was a long time ago."

He seems mad, but I don't understand why. He was going to have sex with that Lauren girl for crying out loud! I didn't even do anything wrong.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Do I need to leave?" he asks suddenly.

"No!" His eyes dart to mine in surprise. "I mean, there's really _nothing _going on with me and Tyler. It was so long ago. Water under the bridge. I haven't even thought about him in months."

"Were you serious with him?"

_God, why are we having this conversation_?

I decide to tell the truth. "Yes. For a little while. We were friends at first."

"Do you still like him?"

I look at him, hoping to display the sincerity of my next words. "No. Not anymore." And it's true. I used to like Tyler, but he blew his opportunity when he left me behind.

I wasn't enough to make him stay, and now he's not enough for me to grant a second chance.

Edward looks appeased by this answer, but before he can respond there's another another knock at the door. We both tense.

"That's probably the Chinese," he says, though his tone holds a bit of a question. I nod and search for my purse, silently praying to every God available that Tyler hasn't come back.

"Probably. Look, Edward, I'll buy the food tonight--"

But he's already on his feet. "Don't be ridiculous, Bella. I told you I was buying dinner." He stands to get the door and, _oh thank heavens_, it's only the delivery guy.

I return to the kitchen again for drinks. "Do you eat your food straight out of the carton?" I ask him.

"Do you?"

"Yes. But I can bring you a plate if you want one."

"Out of the carton is fine." He pauses. "Are we eating in front of the TV again?" he questions.

Clearly, he still doesn't understand the way things work around here.

"Edward, my kitchen table has done nothing but hold the mail since I got it. I've _never_ eaten there."

"Then what's the point of having one?"

"That's a good question. My dad bought it for me." I bring our drinks into the living room. Edward is setting up the food on the coffee table. "It does make a nice mail holder, though," I offer.

"They make those, you know. Mail holders."

"Why would I go buy something new when the kitchen table works just fine?"

He shakes his head and chuckles lightly. "I have no idea, Bella."

"Exactly, Eduardo. Stick with me and you may learn a thing or two about being thrifty."

An old TV show plays in the background, yet neither of us pay much attention. I focus on Edward perhaps a tad bit more than I should. I'm immensely relieved that he hasn't bolted after the Tyler fiasco.

We chat about trivial things. He tells me about his first home – an apartment even smaller than mine. He reveals a reckless trip to Vegas that he took with Emmett after the initial success of his company, followed by the chewing out he received from Carlisle upon his return. He explains the new design Esme is planning for the second family room.

I, in turn, tell him about the first horrid apartment I lived in. I explain how Rose and I met and relive the single night of our frightening camping trip with our college friends. I tell him how my dad, Charlie, gave me the drug talk when I was nine, when I didn't even know what "smoking a doobie" meant. I reveal with embarrassment that I had thought Charlie was referencing Scooby Doo for nearly four years.

Dinner is complete in no time. Edward's egg roll remains untouched and I try to swipe it, but he quickly bats me away.

"I'm eating it!" he says stubbornly.

"You haven't even touched it!"

"I always eat it last."

"You eat it last? Is that like...a rule?"

"Maybe."

"How can you stand for it to sit on your plate the whole meal? It's the best part."

"Ever heard of delayed gratification?" he asks. He peeks at me and I find myself shifting, trying to recover from the seductiveness of his words and expression. Is this intentional?

I clear my throat.

"Whoever said that has never tried an egg roll."

"Here, pull this end," he says, and he graciously relents and gives me half.

I soon take a quick bathroom break. I'm surprised to find Ursula's entire bowl of food is gone, but the cat is nowhere to be found. I shrug and return to the living room.

She's back on the couch. In Edward's lap.

_In Edward's motherfucking lap_.

"What's going on here?" I exclaim. "You saw how much trouble I had to go through to get her to move the first time!"

Didn't Emmett say Edward doesn't like cats?

Edward looks at me in exasperation. "I didn't help her up."

"Who did?"

"She jumped."

"She jumped?" Somehow, I just don't see it happening. "She can barely walk!"

"Well she jumps pretty well," he grumbles.

Ursula stares at me as we talk, the same blank, impassive look on her face. She obviously has no intention of moving anytime soon. Her massive body takes up Edward's entire lap.

I scowl at her jealously before taking my seat again.

Edward doesn't pet her, but she seems content just laying there. He looks very awkward with her on top of him.

I imagine the cluster of white cat hair that will probably stick to his clothes and smile.

"You don't have to look so pleased," Edward says as he notices my reaction.

I lean over and scratch Ursula behind the ears. She looks neither pleased nor offended by my sudden petting. She is strangely disinterested. "What are you talking about? I'm just glad you two are getting along. Ursula is such a sweetie, isn't that right? Huh? Isn't that right?" I coo as if I'm talking to a baby.

Edward tries to shift under her weight and finally gives up.

"What do you feed this thing?" he groans.

"Spaghetti noodles and milk, apparently," I supply.

"You might want to cut back on the carbs."

"I'll pass along the message."

Ursula doesn't budge from his lap. I lose the desire to continue faking my love for the beastly thing and instead focus my attention on the TV, flipping through the channels. I simultaneously praise and curse Emmett, knowing that Ursula is keeping me a safe distance from Edward but hating her for that very thing.

I find a King of Queens rerun and we begin to watch, chatting lightly again about past stories and experiences. I feel as though I'm learning more about Edward tonight than I have in all the time I've known him. I greedily drink in every word.

Ursula eventually falls asleep. I watch Edward out of the corner of my eye, my heart fluttering every time I catch him looking at me. He doesn't realize I can see him and finally, when he is openly caught, we both exchange small smiles before my face heats and I divert my gaze.

I've inched so close to him on the couch that our thighs are touching. But nothing more.

Finally, I'm exasperated with the cat situation. I peel myself from the couch and head for the kitchen, stealthily searching the fridge until I find a cold beer. I sigh loudly so that Edward can hear.

"Edward, will you come here for a second?"

It takes him a moment, but eventually he pries himself from underneath Ursula and follows me into the kitchen. I see Ursula stalk off in the direction of my bedroom and I silently rejoice.

"What's wrong?" he asks me, frowning. I hold out my beer pathetically.

"Can you please open this? It always hurts my hand."

"Oh, sure." He takes it from me and opens it easily, looking pleased. I refrain from rolling my eyes at the obvious masculinity boost I just gave him.

"Want one?"

"I'm good," he declines. Just as suspected, he has hair all over his shirt and jeans. Huge clumps of it. I don't think he's noticed.

"You're hairy," I laugh. I instinctively reach out to wipe the hair away, realizing too late that I'm brushing close to the danger zone as I do. I don't notice this until Edward flinches and backs away, out of the reach of my hand.

I pull back like I've been shocked.

"Sorry!" I exclaim, wide-eyed. Edward's expression matches my own.

"It's fine," he mutters. He coughs into his hand and looks away.

Awkwardness ensues.

I chug my beer, my face hot enough to warm the kitchen, and pray that Edward will say something to put me out of my graceless misery.

He watches me, his brow creased in worry. "Are you okay?"

I nod. Half my beer is gone. And I never even wanted a beer! I just wanted that damn cat to give us some alone time.

"I'm fine."

We slowly make our way back to the living room, the air around us thinning only slightly. Edward seems to have just realized exactly _how much_ cat hair is on his jeans as he's taken to fussing over it.

I wonder if this incident refers to rule number two – if Ursula is really shedding because she needs to be fed _again_ – but I don't comment and wisely nurse my beer in silence, trying very hard to look anywhere except _there_.

He curses. "Your entire apartment is going to be covered in hair. Did you just get her?"

"Yeah. Today," I confirm.

He mumbles something, and I suspect it's a very disgruntled, "Good luck with that."

He finally settles down, obviously not content with his current hairy predicament but resigned nonetheless. I scoot closer to him and he eases when he sees me approach, instinctively lifting his arm and wrapping it around my shoulder.

I instantly melt against his side.

I think of apologizing about the hair. And for touching his crotch. But I reconsider on both accounts.

He turns his head and buries his nose in my hair. Suddenly he's inhaling deeply, causing the familiar tingle to course through my body. I swear I can even feel it in my toes.

I turn my head towards him, hoping to catch his gaze, but he misreads my intentions and I soon feel his lips pressed softly against mine. I quickly pull my face from his and turn to stare at my hands, my mind swimming with a million thoughts and probabilities and scenarios.

I want him to kiss me. I want it _so _badly. But I know that I shouldn't want it, and this stops me. At least for the moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and he leans away from me – back to his spot – rejected.

I know I'm running hot and cold. This is surely a much more painful type of torture – it certainly is to me, at least. But I'm not sure what to do about it.

"You didn't do anything," I mutter quietly. He doesn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." And to prove it, I grab his face in my hand and pull his lips back to mine.

Fuck being reasonable. Fuck being smart. I'm allowed to kiss a cute guy – Rose even said so herself, at one point. It's not like I'll actually _do _anything with him.

Not _that_ kind of anything.

Edward responds eagerly, as if he's been waiting for this type of initiation, and before I know it he's pushing me back again, against the armrest. He hovers over me, his knee between my thighs, and his tongue touches mine, slow and caressing and delicious. I grab a thick wad of his shirt and pull him hard against me.

His searing kiss leaves my thoughts cloudy. I refocus, knowing I can do this. I can stop when it becomes too much. I can stop.

He trails kisses from my jaw to my ear, down my neck, across my collar bone. He nips and sucks my skin and I moan embarrassingly loud. I can feel his smile against me.

I'm practically panting with desire as his fingers skim the skin of my belly, pushing my shirt up. I don't protest when those same fingers reach the fabric of my bra. I don't protest when my body automatically sits up to remove the offending garment.

I can stop.

I _can _stop.

Edward is kissing my chest, my stomach, the swell of my breasts. Any skin he can reach. His lips reach my neck again and his breath is hot and moist in my ear.

"God, I want you."

The words cause my skin to prickle. I want him too, more than he knows. More than I should, and more than I'll admit now or ever.

Instead, I moan again, a sound silenced by his lips. His hands skim my bra, trailing down to my jeans. He pulls at the button with one hand and, after a moment of persistence, it comes free.

_I can stop_.

I literally ache for him. Suddenly I wonder who's more tortured in this little plot.

His fingers linger on the edge of my panties, skimming the skin just beneath. I can tell he's awaiting some unspoken permission before going further. I should stop him now. I _need_ to stop him now.

Some part of my brain - the deeply hidden, rational part - breaks free. I lean back so that I can see his eyes. Eyes which are now dark with desire.

"I can't—" I feel like I can't catch my breath. Like I can't breathe at all. "We shouldn't—I just-- we can't have _sex_." The words tumble out before I can even think about them. I expect Edward to withdraw, to embrace a lost cause when he sees one and make some kind of hasty excuse and leave, but his eyes don't move from mine. He kisses my chin softly.

"We won't," he breathes. "I just want to make you feel good, Bella."

_Oh, my_.

But my damn mouth just won't shut up. "I just-- I don't want you to _expect _things...."

He kisses me, his touch soft and tender. "I don't, Bella. I promise. But we can stop." He tries to pull away but I grab him by the shoulders and force him back to me.

I kiss him. Hard. I graze his chest my with nails, my tongue forcing its way into his mouth, and he groans against me. This is all the incentive he needs – he reaches down, over my panties, and strokes me _there_. Just that one simple touch is more intense than anything I've felt before. At this point, I'm so aroused I feel like I could get off with simply a smoldering look.

_I can stop. I can stop I can stop I can stop_.

He breaks away from our kiss, leaving only a fraction of space between us. His wild breaths mingle with my own.

"Is this okay?" he asks cautiously. He touches his nose softly to mine while he awaits my answer.

I nod, because it is okay. I don't want him to stop. Ever.

We won't go any further. I know when enough is enough.

_I can stop_.

He moves his hand up and barely slips them into the top of my panties. They pause there, on hair and skin, cautious of going further.

"Is this okay?" he asks again, his tentative words muffled by my lips. I nod once more, unable to find my voice, and my breath leaves me altogether when he stretches a long finger south and strokes my clit, nothing but skin against skin. I groan and my hips instinctively lift against his hand.

He lavishes my neck again, then my shoulder. My collar bone. He slips one finger inside of me and I want to close my eyes and weep at the pleasure I'm feeling. I throw my head against the couch and loudly moan, my thoughts leaving me in one quick rush of sensation. He mercifully moves his finger up and down and in soft circles against my clit, twisting and touching places I never even knew were there. My hands are in his hair, tugging, grasping for something to keep me grounded. He seems to enjoy the pressure and muffles a moan against my skin.

He slips another finger inside and they slide in and out while his thumb strokes me softly, eliciting the most crazed feelings from deep within my belly. My hips lift and shift against his hand, finding a rhythm to match his own. I can feel the pressure, the tingle, which starts in my groin and spreads through my body. It intensifies with every light stroke and touch and I want to scream for it to go on forever and to end at the same time. It's the best kind of torture.

Finally, the pressure is too great, and it explodes. I throb around Edward as wave after wave of pleasure courses through my body. I cry out, my voice loud in the quiet apartment, and cling to him with all my might. I crush his body hard against mine as I come undone around him.

When it's over, I ease my grip on Edward only slightly. I relish the feel of his body against mine, of him being so close, and I don't want him to pull away. My hands stay wound in his hair, refusing to let him go.

He brings his face back to mine and kisses me passionately. He rests his forehead against mine, his chest grazing against my own with every heave.

"Was that good?" he asks, his voice a labored whisper.

I nod weakly. It's as if I have no energy left, not even for talking.

He shifts me on the couch, forcing me to slide over so that he can lie beside me. He wraps me into his arms and I twist and turn so that I can snuggle right against his chest.

I feel his erection press against my leg and I frown. I know he is uncomfortable; I know he needs a similar release. I want to give it to him, to do _something_, but I'm suddenly terrified.

I crave his touch, his company. Everything about him. Things have obviously gotten out of control, and suddenly I feel like I'm in over my head, drowning, unable to surface or catch my breath. I want to reciprocate, but in the worst kind of way I want to shove him out of the apartment and tell him not to come back. I want to shed my tears and mope and rid my system of him before it gets any worse.

I've never felt such simultaneous pleasure and anguish from one person. I've never had emotions that were so overwhelming. I feel the tears rise unbidden into my eyes but I push them away, fighting the hard ache in my throat as I prevent myself from sobbing.

My face is buried against Edward's chest so, thankfully, he cannot see. I don't know how I would explain my sudden turmoil to him.

He strokes my hair. He kisses my forehead.

I want to do something for him, to relieve him of some of his tension. I want to but can't, nor can I find the words to tell him so or to apologize.

Instead, I hold him tighter. I cling to him as if my life depends on his presence.

For a long time, we lay this way, neither of us speaking. He continues to rub my hair, my back, shoulders, and arms. I'm still clad in just a bra and my unbuttoned jeans, his fingers soothing as they graze my bare skin with feather-soft touches. My pants are loose and low on my hips; he trails one finger down my back, lower and lower, until it grazes the top of my underwear inside my jeans. Then he sweeps it back to my shoulder blades and I shiver.

I feel like it must be late, although I haven't looked at the clock in ages. But I'm content in his arms and do not seek the time.

I finally find my voice. "Thank you." The words are whispered against his chest and his hand stills on my shoulder.

I'm thanking him for a multitude of things – for the incredible hand-job, obviously. And the resulting release. But also, I'm thanking him for _this_. For not pressing me, for being here, for staying silent.

He doesn't say anything. Eventually, his hand begins to move on my shoulder again.

I sigh and rest against him, relaxing.

"Was that too much?" he finally asks, but I'm confused as to his meaning.

"Was what too much?"

"That—you know. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable earlier."

I grin against his shirt. "No, that was, um...very nice," I offer. He chuckles.

"I could tell."

Now I'm embarrassed. "Shut up."

"It was nice seeing you like that," he goes on. "With your defenses down."

I frown. I'm unsure, exactly, what he means. But I don't feel like pressing him. I'm too relaxed, too tired for serious discussion at the moment.

Perhaps he got some enjoyment out of it as well. That's the most I can hope for, all things considered. I know he must have been uncomfortable inside his jeans.

"I'm sorry I didn't, uh...return the favor," I offer awkwardly. He doesn't move beside me.

"I told you not to," he mumbles.

"Everyone knows that's not what a man _really_ means," I protest.

"It's what _I_ really meant." He pauses, his entire body stilling, hand and all. "This is all kind of different for me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really sucking at it."

"What do you mean?"

"Lying here with you. On the couch. It's not something I usually do. It's not something I usually _want _to do." He searches for the words, frustrated. "But I like you, Bella. I really do. Usually the thought of getting someone else off without getting something in return is kind of—I don't know. But I _wanted_ to get you off. I _liked _getting you off. And that was enough for me." He pauses, then sighs. "I know I'm not making any sense." He sounds defeated.

I'm reeling at his words, slowly processing them as I ponder their sincerity. He certainly sounds sincere. And I want to believe him. I really do.

I play with his hair between my fingers and close my eyes.

"Why is this all different?" I whisper. "Why have you never been close to anyone before?"

He's twenty-seven, after all. He should have met at least _one _person by now. One person worth cuddling on the couch for.

I feel him tense slightly against me. "I was. Once. But I've seen what it does to people."

My body is instantly alert, eager to drink in these few precious words. I wait for him to go on, but he doesn't.

"What do you mean?" I softly prompt. I want him to openly talk to me. I don't want to scare him away with demands.

He sighs and pulls me even closer against his chest. "It's a long story," he says. "I don't really feel like going into it."

_Damn_. My hope deflates like a popped balloon.

But I don't pressure him. If he wants to talk, he'll talk. I just may not be here, and that thought alone disheartens me.

We lie in silence a little while longer and I think about things. The wedding is still a couple of days away. The whole purpose of this was to gain a date for the wedding, so that I can flaunt a cute guy in front of the losers who think I can't land a decent man. But as I ponder these things, I realize that perhaps they're right. I really _can't _land a good guy. Tyler was the closest thing, but even he left without a backwards glance, leaving me hurt and confused and doubtful.

I wonder if it's this hard for everybody. I wonder if I'm subconsciously drawn to the men who are bad for me.

I wonder if Edward is telling the truth, and he really does like me. If I'm _different_. Perhaps he's regretting the bet.

Hope is a fickle thing. I don't trust it, not even for a second.

It's late when he finally stands to leave. I put on my shirt and walk him to the door, wishing this was under normal circumstances and I could ask him to stay. Wishing I could have reciprocated tonight and made him feel as good as he did me.

He kisses me tenderly, his hands cupping my face and his tongue softly stroking mine. I have a feeling he doesn't want to leave anymore than I want him to, but there is no confirmation of this. He kisses me on the forehead, on the lips again, before he tells me goodnight and quietly slips out the door.

I watch him walk down the hallway. I offer him one last tentative smile before I shut the door and lock it, effectively shutting him out.

Ursula is nowhere to be found. I don't bother looking for her, instead curling up on my bed and willing myself to fall asleep. I can still smell him on my clothes; I wear the same shirt to bed, inhaling his scent, and it helps me fall asleep.

* * *

I can't even put into words right now how grateful I am for all your comments. Some of you are just too nice to me. It still amazes me that ppl actually read this crazy little story. Thanks to all of you who review and even those of you who lurk in the shadows...I appreciate it all the same.

ms_ambrosia did the beta thing...a fantastic job, as usual. Special thanks to passionmama, who I can always depend on for her blunt honesty.

The lovely Tanja with SYTYCW(dot)com did an interview with me at www(dot)sytycw(dot)com(slash)2010(slash)03(slash)a-betting-man

You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1. I really suck at tweeting but I give status updates and teasers. And then there's the thread, where I also post teasers: www(dot)twilighted(dot)net(slash)forum(slash)?f=44&p=857415. I'm trying to get over there more often. And to those of you who don't understand why Edward hasn't told Bella about the bet, I tried to address it there, so feel free to stop by or ask if you have anymore questions. And please remember...I know it's been twenty chapters, but they've only known each other about a week. One week. That's all.

Ok I'm done.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I _know_ you guys wanted an EPOV of what he was thinking last chapter...I seriously do read all the reviews...but unfortunately I didn't include it in this chapter. I have my reasons, however, so I hope you just trust me. BUT, as a thank you for all your comments, I'm sending an EPOV of the couch scene from chapter 20 to everyone who reviews this chapter. I don't usually do overlapping POV's like that, but I figured you guys would enjoy it. **

**Also, to be exact...because I know it can get confusing...the last chapter was a Tuesday. They met on a Saturday and had their first date on Sunday. So they've been "seeing each other" for 10 days. This chapter comprises Wed and Thurs. The wedding is this coming up Saturday.**

**See you below.**

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 21

Everything is so bright. So white. So _pristine_.

Even Edward. Dressed all in white, even with spotless shoes, he's stunning. His hair, in its usual state of disarray, is sharper in contrast. His usually fair skin looks more tan. His green eyes glimmer.

He looks at me from where he stands and I face him from several yards away.

He lifts a finger and crooks it towards himself. Very come hither.

And me? Well, come hither I most certainly do. I'm at his side in a flash.

Fuck subtlety.

I look up into his eyes. They're dark and smoldering, regarding me hungrily. They make me tingle in a completely different, albeit wonderful, way. His stubble, a day's worth, is just too tempting to ignore, and I reach up to stroke his chin. He closes his eyes and sighs against my hand.

"Bella."

Just the sound of my name, the way it rolls from his tongue, makes my drawers twitch as they threaten to drop. What the hell? And I always thought that was just an expression....

He moves in closer, his knuckles ghosting across my cheek. I unconsciously take one step backwards and run into something hard. I frown because there had been nothing there before. When I turn, I see a desk.

I'm confused. There's a desk, here, in this vast expanse of brightness. Just us and a desk.

When I turn back to Edward, he smiles. He seems completely at ease with the strange appearance of the desk and leans forward to kiss me softly on the lips.

"I've waited so long for this," he whispers. I thrill at his words.

He grabs the back of my thighs and hoists me onto the desk. He stands between my legs and kisses me roughly, almost painfully, but I urge him on by tugging his hair with equal force and passion. He leans into me until I'm lying back on the desk, his body over mine. Then he's kissing me again, his lips attacking my neck, my shoulders. He's sucking and biting and nipping, his movements more agitated than the night before. It's painful, yet it's pleasurable, and I take it.

And then, suddenly, he's inside of me. He fills me completely, so fully that my eyes roll to the heavens and I loudly groan. I hadn't even been aware that I was naked, but who am I to complain?

My senses seem heightened. I can feel every single inch. He lays over me, covering my body with his own.

"You feel so good," he says, and his breath is hot in my ear. I want to speak – I open my mouth, try to say the words – but I can't.

"It's about fucking time," he says, grunting with exertion. "I was starting to think you'd never let me fuck you."

My heart, which is already beating at a frantic pace, seems to gain more speed.

"I told James," he goes on. "I told him this would be the easiest bet I've ever won. I mean, God, I could tell from across the room that you're clingy. Desperate." He slams into me harder. "So desperate."

His words hurt, slicing me from the inside out. I want to speak, to cry, to scream, but I can't – I feel like I'm being crushed. I feel like there's a heavy weight on my chest, preventing me from breathing or moving.

I start to panic – I finally manage to suck in a lung-full of air and half of Edward's hair comes with it, choking me in my throat.

I awake with a jolt, coughing and sputtering, only to quickly assess my surroundings. I still can't breathe, and with good reason – Ursula's perched right on top of my chest, ass in my face, an enormous mountain of white fur obstructing my view. Her tail swishes across my mouth - my mouth which sucks up her hair like a hoover vacuum every time I inhale.

"Jesus _Christ_!" I sputter. I shove the offensive animal off my chest and take several huge gulps of air. "Are you kidding? Are you trying to suffocate me in my sleep?" I yell, but the only response I get is her back end, tail straight in the air, slipping through the bedroom door as she disappears from my room.

I'm feeling nervous as I lie back down. The dream had just seemed so _real_. And who was I to know that the loner cat would try to whack me in my sleep, during a nightmare no less? I really need to shut my door and possibly lock it.

I toss and turn for a few minutes. Eventually I get up to pee, only to discover a huge stink pile in Ursula's litter box which clogs up my toilet when I try to flush it. I spend the next ten minutes plunging and cursing and wishing I was back in my nightmare, because at least then I was actually getting _some_ sort of pleasure.

But as I lie down again, the thought leaves me in a rush. I don't feel that way at all, and the thought of Edward saying those things is nauseating.

But he didn't say them. Not really. I recall this over and over, remembering the way he felt pressed against me just hours before, the way he rubbed me and held me and was just _there_.

I begin to calm, and after a while I put my worries behind me and sleep.

---

I get ready for work in a rush. I leave Ursula a monstrous pile of food while resolving that I'll have to come back on my lunch break to feed her again. I throw a few toys in the living room and pray that my furniture will be in one piece when I get back.

I make sure not to touch her, but even so, I find myself lint rolling my black top and cursing.

I stay fairly busy throughout the day so that work passes quickly. After work, I race home to feed Ursula and shove a sandwich down my throat. I still haven't talked to Rose, but I've thought about it the entire day.

Around two o'clock, I send her a text message.

_You are dead to me_. - _B_

I'm halfway joking but turn my phone on vibrate so that, even if she responds, I won't get the message until later. I figure it'll be best to let her ponder that little bit for a while. She'll have a few hours to really let it sink in.

After work, I feed Ursula again. She devours all her food like I haven't fed her the entire day, looking up at me with milk dripping from the fur around her mouth. I believe she's saying thank you. I stroke her back once, communicating that I'm grateful the furniture hasn't been ripped to shreds, and then wash the hair off my hand in the sink.

I brush her after her dinner, removing thick white wads of fur from her back and belly. She rolls around on the couch so that I won't miss a spot and purrs.

When I'm done I lint roll the couch.

After the cat has been taken care of I finally check my phone to see if Rose replied only to find two messages from Edward, each sent three hours apart. My heart skips a beat and I check them first.

_I've been thinking about you all day. - E_

_Busy today? - E_

I'm grinning from ear to ear as I reply.

_Sorry I missed you, I had my phone on vibrate. I've been thinking about you, too. - B_

When I'm done I check my message from Rose. She actually called before sending a text.

_What the fuck are you talking about? - R_

I call her back and she answers on the first ring.

"Why hello Miss 'dead to me'," she says sourly into the phone. "To what do I owe the pleasure of an actual phone call rather than a cryptic text message?"

I roll my eyes. She will _not _intimidate me, damn it.

"You know what you did," I say. "So don't even try to deny it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You spoke to Tyler."

"Yeah, so? He called me."

"You also gave him my address. _And_ you told him to make a surprise visit with flowers and wine."

Rose gasps. "You mean he actually did it?"

Now I'm damn near livid. "_Yes _he did it! He also did it while Edward was over."

She pauses, and I know she's considering my words. "So?"

"So?" I echo.

"So I bet that put Edward's tighties all in a twist. It's brilliant, actually. Just wait til I tell Emmett--"

"No, Rose. _Do not_ tell Emmett. I'm pissed off. I _told_ you I didn't want to see Tyler and you didn't listen to me."

"Oh come _on_, Bella. Tyler treated you like a princess."

"He _left_ me!"

"He wanted to be near his family. He was home-sick. That's perfectly understandable--"

"No, Rose. It isn't. How would you feel if Emmett suddenly packed up and moved a thousand miles away? Then he came back two years later pretending like he never left? Like everything is okay?"

There's silence from her end and I know I'm finally reaching her.

"You wouldn't be too happy, would you?" I prompt.

"I just want you to be happy, Bella. I don't want to see you get hurt. But you're right, I shouldn't have pushed Tyler on you like that."

_Hold up! Stop the presses! Rosalie Hale is actually admitting she was wrong?_

"Thank you, Rose. I appreciate that. And I understand you want to look out for me, but...I'm twenty-four. I can make my own decisions."

"I worry about you and Edward, Bella. I know he's good-looking and can obviously charm the panties right off of damn near any woman – because let's face it, he's been practicing for years – but I think you're forgetting what this whole thing is about. You said you wanted to make him pay for making this bet. You said you wanted to make him suffer. And now? When is the last time you did anything mean to him?"

"Well, the cat--" I begin mumbling.

"The cat was a stupid idea," Rose interrupts. "Unless you're planning on taking it to his house. And I don't think you should. It's a living creature, for fuck's sake. Not a toy for these evil little schemes you two come up with."

I'm suddenly defensive. "_I _never wanted the cat. Maybe you should talk to _your_ boyfriend about it."

"I did, but he'd already told the guy he'd take it."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, I see. Better to let him pawn it off on Bella than to have to deal with it yourself."

"You know how I feel about cats, Bella. Especially big white ones that shed a lot."

My phone beeps and I see that Edward is trying to call.

"Look, Edward's trying to call me," I say without thinking.

"So?"

_Fuck_.

"So I need to answer."

"Call him when you're done. Christ, you sure are folding to his every whim for someone who wants to make him suffer."

"I'm _not_. Am I not even allowed to answer his phone calls now? Jesus Christ, I wasn't aware there would be so many rules."

"There's only one rule, Bella. _Don't get attached_."

"Right. That's awesome," I say sarcastically. "Now I need to let you go. Bye."

I hang up despite her protests only to discover that the beeping has stopped and Edward is no longer calling. I sigh and wait a few moments for my voicemail message to appear. When I it does I hastily listen to it.

"Hey Bella, I was just calling to see what you were up to. I guess you may not even be off work yet..." His words linger awkwardly. "But hell, just listening to your voice on your outgoing message was better than nothing. And um, I'd like to talk to you tonight. But I'm starting to feel like I'm harassing you when you don't answer." He chuckles. "I guess I'll talk to you later. Bye, beautiful."

I hold the phone to my chest and suppress the urge to do a schoolgirl squeal. He's so eager to hear my voice that he enjoyed just listening to my message? Crap, I can't even remember what my message sounds like.

I think of Rose - and everything she said - and my happiness falls a little flat. Damn her for being such a Debbie Downer. But she's right, I suppose – not that that makes it any better.

I call Edward back.

"Hey," he greets smoothly. "I thought I had missed you."

"No, I was just on the other line with Rose. Sorry."

"It's fine. Did you have a good day at work?"

"It was busy. I had my phone turned off for a while. I work better without distractions."

"That's understandable."

"What about you?"

"It was good," he says. "I had lunch with Emmett. He wants us to go on a double date with him and Rose tomorrow."

I freeze in horror at the thought. Me, Edward and Emmett? Alone? All of us together..._in the same room!?_

I can only imagine the awkwardness that will ensue as Emmett labors to make us as uncomfortable as possible. The thought is unsettling.

"Um, is that something you want to do?" I ask warily.

"It's fine with me. If you want to."

_Just say no, Bella. Just say no!_

"Um, well I..." I scramble for an excuse. "I mean, I may have to work late tomorrow..."

I want to bang my head against the wall. I am such a bad liar!

"Well that's okay," Edward says smoothly. "We'll just see what time you get off and go from there. They can always go without us." He pauses. "I wouldn't mind seeing you, though," he admits.

My subconscious does a little happy dance. Then Rose, the equivalent of a little red devil on my left shoulder, attacks my subconscious and beats it to the ground.

I have to roll my eyes at the absurdity of my thoughts. Why do I let Rose's words affect me this way? I'm a big girl. I can make my own decisions.

"I'd like to see you, too," I say. Preferably while Emmett is several miles away. As well as Rose's judgmental eyes.

"Good," he breathes, and I can sense his pleasure at my words.

I carry the phone to my bedroom, where I lay on my stomach on the bed and swing my legs in the air. I feel like such a schoolgirl tonight, in multiple ways, but I can't bring myself to care.

"Are you at home?" I ask.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes."

"Have you talked to that...guy...again?"

I roll my eyes, but I'm grinning. "Why? Would you be jealous?" I ask.

"Of course I'd be jealous," he says seriously. "I don't like him."

"You don't know him. How can you not like someone you don't even know?"

"Why did you two break up?"

"He moved away."

"That's a good enough reason. A decent guy would never leave you."

I can think of plenty things that a _decent guy_ wouldn't do, but I feel it's best not to go into it at this time. And am I really any better? I'm guilty of just as many lies, and for that reason I can't complain.

"I guess not," I muse.

"How is the cat?" he asks, moving on to the next easy topic of conversation.

I gasp as I recall this morning and roll onto my back. I completely ignore my dream – or more appropriately, my nightmare – and instead focus on how Ursula nearly murdered me.

"I don't think she likes me," I complain. "She tried to suffocate me in my sleep. She practically laid right on my face – I couldn't breathe."

He laughs heartily. "Well hell, Bella. Are you okay?"

"I'm a little traumatized, to be honest."

"I would imagine."

"And then her poo clogged up my toilet."

"Her what?"

"Her poo. It was massive, Edward. The biggest pile of dung I've ever seen. Almost like it came from an elephant or something."

Now he's laughing hysterically and I can't help but giggle along with him.

"I spent the greater part of my early hours plunging the toilet," I go on. "She probably has another pile or two waiting on me. I haven't checked."

"I wouldn't advise flushing it this time."

"No, I may have to load it out of here with a wheel-barrow or something."

I shake my head at the absurdity of our conversation. But it's so natural – so _easy_. I could talk to him for the entire night.

And I practically do. We talk for over an hour, telling stories and making jokes. He finally reveals his underlying displeasure of cats, an aversion beginning when his aunt Esme's cat gave up its litter box to pee on all of his clothes. He explains that Esme told him it served him right – that he should pick up his clothes from the floor if he didn't want them soiled. But the cat would seek out his clothes from inside his closet, so it didn't matter.

I can't stop smiling when I finally hang up the phone. Not even when I find _three_ poo piles in Ursula's litter box.

_Jesus Christ_.

I scoop her mess into plastic grocery bags, my nose turned up in distaste the entire time. But internally, I'm still smiling.

---

The following day I talk to Emmett on the phone and berate him for a number of things, the most important of which is Ursula.

"Edward doesn't even care about the cat." I'm talking at a frenzied pace, not allowing him time to speak until I'm finished. "I mean he doesn't like them, yeah, he admitted that to me. But he doesn't like them for _normal _reasons. No one would like a cat if it peed all over your stuff. And all Ursula has done is give him a hairy crotch. It's _me_ she's torturing. It's _me_ risking my life at night."

Emmett sighs into the phone. "Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

"No. I don't. I couldn't _breathe_, Emmett. Don't you understand that? Breathing...it's sort of vital for life!"

"Ursula wouldn't hurt a fly. She doesn't even mess with Carly's hamster!"

"Who's Carly?"

"Mike's little girl. The one who named her."

"Well there's probably a reason for that. Most cats who chase mice are a little more on the below three-hundred pounds side."

"I hope Ursula can't hear you right now," he says seriously. I want to scream into the phone.

"And what's this about you wanting to double-date with us?" I say, moving on.

"Oh, yeah! That should be fun." I can practically _hear_ him grinning. "Is there any place you guys like to go? Rose was saying the two of you eat at Bluwater Bistro a lot..."

I'm exasperated. "Why didn't you ask me first?"

"I asked Edward and he asked you."

"The last thing I need right now is two hours of awkwardness from you guys. I know you'll try to make me uncomfortable. And Rose doesn't even like what I'm doing anymore."

"No, Bella. I'll make _Edward_ uncomfortable. You can just sit back and relax and enjoy your bread sticks. You can even bring some popcorn if it'll make the show more pleasant."

"I don't like this."

"It'll be fun, Bella," he assures me. "How many more days until the wedding anyway?"

"Two days." The thought makes me sad.

"_Two days_? See, this is why we need to do this. You only have two more days to give him hell. Thank God I got Ursula when I did." I want to protest – to tell him that Ursula is only giving _me _hell – but he doesn't give me a chance. "Look, I gotta go. My lunch break was supposed to be over five minutes ago. You and Rose think of somewhere where you want to go tonight. Preferably somewhere Edward will hate, like...I dunno, one of those places where you eat slop with your fingers or something."

I roll my eyes, but before I can say anything else, he's hung up the phone.

---

I don't call Rose for a few hours. I'm aggravated with both of them and just want a bit of alone time. Truthfully, I'm glad for work today, as it offers a welcome distraction.

I don't particularly want to double date, but at least Emmett's head is in the right place. The thought of making Edward squirm no longer entices me. The thought of having him on my couch again, with his hand up my shirt or down my pants, well...that's a completely different story.

Which is why I agree to the date. I want to see Edward but I need to do it under safe conditions.

The only place I know of where you eat with your hands in Seattle is a nearby Ethiopian restaurant, an idea which Rose squashes immediately.

"If you people think I'm sitting on the floor eating slimy food with _my _hands then you're crazy," she states.

"It was Emmett's idea."

"Look, I know Emmett and I are together, but I don't take credit for his ideas. Half of them are bat-shit crazy. It's not gonna happen. Sorry."

We choose a place called the Metropolitan Grill in downtown Seattle. Eating with a fork is required, as well as sitting at the table. I let Rose break the news to Emmett.

I head home after work to change into something more pleasant. Edward agrees to meet me at my apartment, but I'm surprised when he knocks on the door ten minutes early.

He's dressed in black slacks with a pale blue dress shirt and a dark tie. All of his clothes fit him so perfectly - they're surely custom made. I can't take my eyes off him, off his handsomely rugged face with the slightest hint of stubble, and I want to yank him inside by his tie and attack him.

But I refrain, slowly moving aside so he can enter. This time _he _has a bouquet of flowers, white calla lilies mixed with pink roses, and I want to roll my eyes and kiss him at the same time for the gesture.

"These are beautiful," I say, taking them from him, and he kisses me sweetly on the lips.

"Not even _half_ as beautiful as you," he says sincerely. I blush from head to toe – I'm wearing my dress, a dark blue backless which incidentally matches his own attire – but I haven't had a chance to fix my hair or put on my shoes.

"Thank you," I mumble. "I still need a few more minutes to get ready, though. You're here a little early." I find a vase for the flowers and place them inside, rearranging them until they're perfect. I've already found a new favorite flower.

"That's fine, Bella. Take all the time you need."

I tell him to make himself comfortable and then slip back into my bedroom. I stand in front of my mirror and quickly curl the ends of my hair with an iron, a small smile on my lips simply from his mere presence on the other side of the wall.

Eventually he wanders into the room, his eyes meeting mine through the mirror as I continue the manipulation of my hair. He slowly moves forward until he's standing directly behind me. I cannot look away.

He runs his fingertips down my bare arms, beginning at my shoulders, and each touch is so light it barely exists.

He leans in towards me. "You're so beautiful." Pushing my hair aside, careful to avoid the hot iron, he plants an open mouthed kiss on my neck.

I moan.

"You can't do that," I protest, trying in vain to push him away. I see his eyebrows raise through the mirror.

"Do what?"

"Distract me. I'm trying to get ready."

He smirks. "They can wait a minute. I missed you."

My heart surges because boy, did I miss him too. Just making it through one day of his absence feels like a lifetime. How will I ever deal with this when it's over?

I place the hot iron on my dresser and turn to face him, instantly meeting hot lips and an eager tongue. He grazes my bottom lip with his teeth, teasing and tugging, and my senses fill with him as I smell his sweet cologne and savor his wonderful taste.

He's the first to pull away and I grab his tie, tugging him to me again, and he willingly complies.

I finally push him away, my hand gentle but forceful against his chest.

"I really need to get ready."

He sighs and kisses my forehead, but before I know it his lips are on mine again and I'm giggling like a teenager at our antics. I push him towards the door.

"You're _such_ a distraction!" I admonish him, and he smiles.

"Are you saying you don't enjoy it?"

"That's personal information," I lie, refusing to play into his game, and I push him out of the room and shut the door behind him.

I'm grinning so broadly my face hurts.

---

The car ride to the Metropolitan Grill is quiet, subdued, but we exchange wistful glances and touch hands and hair and skin and clothes the whole way there, unable to resist each other but wary of doing too much, too soon. I nearly forget that I'm not supposed to like him, that he may not feel the same, but it's such an easy thing to do in his presence.

Emmett and Rose are waiting for us when we arrive. Emmett stands to greet us but Rose remains sitting, which is no surprise. Edward and Emmett greet each other warmly, Rose smiles icily, and we all take our seats.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite happy couple!" Emmett cracks his menu open. "I already ordered us appetizers. I hope you don't mind. I'm starving."

"Of course not, Em. What did you order?" Edward asks. I watch them both closely, having never seen them together before. I'm curious as to how Edward acts around his friends.

"The crab cakes and the tenderloin bites."

I peruse the menu and my eyes nearly bug out of my head. The food here is nearly more expensive than my first car! Why didn't I think of this place for our _first_ date? I peek at Edward and Emmett and see that they're in a deep discussion over whether the crab claw cocktail is better than the crab cakes, neither of them even batting an eye at the prices.

The server takes our drink order and Edward orders the crab claw cocktail after asking me if there is something I would like.

Rose leans over and whispers quietly in my ear. "You should have ordered the sampler."

I glance at the menu and gasp. "That's eighty fucking dollars!" I hiss, straining to keep my voice as quiet as possible. "For an appetizer!"

She rolls her eyes, clearly missing the point, and settles back into her chair. Edward and Emmett are watching us curiously.

"Secrets don't make friends," Emmett announces. "Care to share with the group?"

"Um, no. It's a...uh...it's a girl thing," I awkwardly lie. I wonder if I would have ordered the sampler even on our first date. I suppose I would have, but spending that much money – on an _appetizer_, no less – seems preposterous. There's no oyster and crab claw in the world worth eighty dollars.

The server delivers our wine and takes our orders. I sip my drink tentatively.

"So you're going with Bella to the wedding on Saturday, huh?" Emmett asks Edward. My senses are on hyper-alert at the sudden attention.

"Yes," Edward replies curtly.

"That's awesome. I'm going with Rose. Hey, did you choose chicken or steak?"

Edward looks at me.

"Um, steak," I mumble.

"Wanna swap, dude? Rose picked chicken for both of us." Emmett makes a face.

"You _like _chicken," Rose protests.

"But I _love _steak."

"You're not swapping. You're trying to complicate things. You're eating a steak tonight – that should be enough."

"I could eat steak for every meal, every day."

"Saturday isn't about _you_."

Edward takes my hand beneath the table as they continue bickering. We exchange an amused look, though I doubt he notices that mine is laced with internal worry.

"So, Edward," Emmett begins. "Set a date for _your_ wedding yet?" He raises both eyebrows suggestively. Internally, I groan.

Edward clears his throat. "We've barely known each other two weeks."

The thought of marriage horrifies _me_, the person without commitment issues. I can only imagine what it's doing to poor Edward.

"So?" asks Emmett.

"So?" Edward echoes. He looks aghast.

"Rose, show them what I got you."

Rose slowly lifts up her left hand to show a white-gold, sparkling diamond ring. Edward's mouth drops in shock. My eyes are as close as they've ever come to popping right out onto the table.

"Is that...is that an _engagement ring_?" I ask, horrified. They've known each other just as long as Edward and I have. Not to mention the fact that Rose never told me about this.

I'm a little put-out that she didn't confide in me. She seems to notice.

"It's a _promise ring_," she corrects. "And I wanted to tell you, Bella. But we thought it would be funny if we pretended we were already engaged." She grins at Emmett.

I fail to see the humor.

"Yeah, _hilarious_," I mutter sarcastically.

"Oh, come on. You should have seen your faces," says Emmett. "It was all in good fun, I promise. But I will marry her one day." He wraps his arm around a very mollified looking Rose.

The tension between Edward and I grows to outstanding proportions, both of us acutely aware that marriage is nowhere on the horizon for us. That even a simple, normal relationship is likely nowhere on the horizon.

I lower my gaze, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. I've never felt so awkward in my life.

Edward's hand is no longer anywhere near mine.

"Well you don't have to look so fucking depressed about it," Rose says snidely. I remember my manners at the last moment and offer them a forced congratulations, though I'm not even sure what it's for. For making a promise?

_Right_.

Edward sighs and does the same. He looks more genuine, surprisingly.

The server delivers our food and we begin to eat.

"Mmm. See, Rose?" Emmett goes on as if nothing had happened. "Just taste this steak. Then you'll see why it could replace every meal." He holds a speared piece of meat up to her face.

"That steak cost almost fifty dollars, Emmett. I don't think the steak at the wedding is going to be quite as high-quality."

"Steak is steak. A cow is a cow."

"Well _that's_ not true..." she begins, then she delves into all the reasons why some cows just taste better than others.

I try to focus on my food. Despite its hefty price tag, I can barely taste it.

Edward notices my distant behavior and leans over to whisper in my ear. "Are you okay?"

I nod at him, and it's not as forced as I would have thought.

"I'm fine."

"Not too subtle, huh?" he asks, referring to Rose and Emmett. I glance at them and see that they're now arguing over whether the color of a cow affects its taste.

"No. But I'm happy for them," I whisper, and he smiles.

"Me, too."

"What are you two Chatty Cathy's talking about?" Emmett interrupts loudly. I wince.

"Just talking about how happy we are for you," Edward supplies.

"Well thanks, man." Emmett looks genuinely pleased. Rose and I exchange looks – she's silently trying to communicate something with me, but I'm not sure what it is.

"I know it may seem fast for some," Emmett goes on, "but Rose is the first girl I've felt this way about in...well, forever. I have no doubt that I'll marry her one day."

Rose's responding smile is genuine, and I know she's happy. That, in turn, makes me happy. I feel a little lighter in spite of everything, and the conversation begins to flow easily.

At least someone has forged a relationship out of this mess.

When everyone is finished eating, the server comes to gather our plates and offer dessert. Edward and I choose one to share.

Emmett touches Edward on the shoulder. "Hey, man. Mind if I talk to you outside for a minute?"

Three confused sets of eyes lock onto his, but he's undeterred. Edward cautiously stands.

"Yeah, sure."

"Be right back, babes," Emmett says, kissing Rose on the cheek. Edward smiles at me and squeezes my hand, then they're both gone.

Rose and I immediately lean towards each other for discussion. "What is that about?" I ask her.

"I have no idea. Emmett didn't tell me anything."

"Is it wrong that I want to go spy on them?"

"Probably. Is it wrong that _I_ want to? I don't even have a reason besides being nosy!"

"That's true," I say solemnly, and she smirks at me.

"Seriously, congratulations on your promise ring," I go on, changing the subject. "I was just a little shocked at first."

"That's okay. After the fact, I realized what we did was kind of crass...you know, considering how you feel about Edward. Emmett has no idea, though. So don't blame him."

"I don't _feel_ anything," I lie, but before she can argue a phone begins to ring, startling us both. We look around.

"I think it's coming from Edward's pocket," Rose supplies, referring to Edward's jacket that's draped over the back of the chair. I begin ruffling through the pockets, causing Rose's eyes to widen in surprise. "Are you going to answer it?" she asks, aghast.

"I'm just turning it off. This place is like...really fancy. You're not supposed to have your phones blaring across the restaurant!" I explain, and she nods in agreement. Especially since people are turning to stare.

I finally find the vibrating, offensive object and pull it from his coat. Just as I'm about to hit the end button, silencing the thing, I notice the name flashing on the screen.

_James_.

I freeze. I'm sure all the color drains from my face, as Rose instantly becomes alarmed.

"What? What is it?" she hisses. She tries to take the phone from me and succeeds.

"_James_?" she growls. "That motherfucker."

"Maybe it's a different James."

"What the fuck? How many James' would he know?"

"I don't know..."

The phone has stopped ringing on its own. Suddenly, it beeps, signaling an incoming text. Rose's eyes fly to meet mine.

"He sent a text."

I don't say anything.

"Read it!" She thrusts the phone at me.

"Rose! I can't!" I protest.

"Why not?"

"That's an invasion of privacy. And what if he catches me?"

"He won't catch you. I'll go out front and distract them a bit."

"How?"

"Just trust me!" She's angry. Angry and annoyed. She shoves the phone back into my hand forcefully. "You like him. As much as you deny it, I can tell. So if you want to see how he really feels about _you_ then you need to read the text. And see if there are any more that he may have sent to James." She whips her head around, looking for signs of Edward or Emmett, then turns her attention back to me.

"I'll guarantee you five minutes at least," she says. "Now _read it!"_

She sweeps out of the restaurant and out of sight, a double agent suddenly on a mission.

I stare at the phone in my hand, my heart pounding against my chest, a nauseating dread weighing heavily in my stomach.

I don't think about it – I don't have the time – but I need to know. I need to know what Edward tells James about me.

I log into his text messages.

_Why do I get the feeling that you are avoiding my calls? - J_

That's not so bad. Good, even. I frantically exit out of his most recent text and look for more. There are several from James.

_I told you she's a pistol. Might as well be wearing a fucking chastity belt. Finding the key will be damn near impossible. - J_

I feel nauseous. Does Edward talk about me this way? Like I'm still nothing but a bet? Just another conquest?

I leave his inbox and look at his sent messages, zoning in on the ones to James. I can hear the blood pounding behind my ears. All other noise inside the restaurant seems to have ceased.

_Perhaps you should check back closer to the end of the 3 weeks. - E_

I check another, and I freeze.

My breathing stops. My heart stops. I'm pretty sure the entire world stops.

_Like I said before, she's just a bet. It'll take til Saturday, tops. Then you can stop your fucking interferences and get out of our lives for good. - E_

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun dddduuuunnn!! Sorry to do that to you....passionmama said my devil horns were out while I was writing this chapter...but it was best to end it there, otherwise it would be 100 pages long. But the big reveal is in sight now, no?**

**Some are you are concerned with how this is going to end. Let's just say I'm strickly HEA. In fact, if I accidentally read a fic that DOESN'T end HEA, I'll probably be pissed the hell off. I know E/B don't have the most traditional of meetings in this story, which is...well, it's life (Do things ever go perfectly in real life? I don't think so). The way I see it, without the bet they wouldn't have met. Then they'd be with other people and...that wouldn't be canon...and omg would the world continue spinning if that happened??**

**As always, special thanks to ms_ambrosia and passionmama for everything they do. You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1. The thread is at www(dot)twilighted(dot)net(slash)forum(slash)?f=44&p=857415.**

**Remember, reviewers get an EPOV outtake! And if you don't get your outtake in say...2 days...plz drop me a line and let me know, cause it's possible I missed you. I'm scatterbrained sometimes. But I'll get it to you ASAP. And if for some reason you don't want it, just say so in the review.**

**Love, mybluesky**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 22

Emmett pulls me outside the door of the restaurant, past couples and families and businessmen who are awaiting a table. It's drizzling slightly, so we stand beneath the overhang.

"What's up, Em?" I ask casually.

He rests against the wall. "So what's going on, man?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean with you and Bella."

I frown. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say honestly.

"You like her." It's a statement, not a question.

"So? You knew that already."

"I haven't seen you look at a girl that way in—well, fuck. Years, I think."

Was it that obvious? I shrug casually, not sure where he's going with this.

"So you like her? Like _really _like her?"

"Yes, Emmett," I say, exasperated. "But there's more to it than that. It's complicated."

"_Complicated_." He says the word with disgust. "You always want to make everything _complicated._ I see the way you look at her, dude. And I'm happy for you, man. I really am. But you need to step up your shit unless you wanna lose her. Don't hold anything back from her – be completely honest." His tone is hushed, his expression serious.

And I'm confused. Emmett is never serious.

"Where is this coming from?" I ask. I'm suddenly feeling defensive, the thought of Bella leaving unpleasant and unwelcome.

"It's coming from a friend. I'm speaking as a friend to a friend. And let's not forget that I'm dating her best friend. We talk about shit, you know?"

"Yeah, Em. I figured as much." I tug at my hair, agitated.

"You need to be honest with her," he goes on. "Chicks dig that. They want to know everything about you and they don't like being lied to."

"What makes you think I'm not being honest with her?" I ask warily. It's true, I'm not. But he doesn't know that.

"You're never honest with women," he says simply. I neither confirm nor deny this observation. "Plus, she talks to Rose, who talks to me. Hell, I probably know more about your relationship than you do."

Oh..._lovely_.

"Haven't you two every heard of giving people privacy?" I ask angrily.

"Oh come on, Edward. Keep your hair on. It's healthy to share things with your significant other."

"Yes, but maybe you could exclude the things that are not of your business."

"Hey, I'm out here trying to help you. If you really like Bella you'll listen to me."

"Well that's great, Emmett. Thank you," I say sarcastically. I'm still feeling rather annoyed for an unknown reason. I'm sure I'll be entering emotional overload soon.

Emmett doesn't understand everything, but how could he? He doesn't even know the whole story.

But he's right. The only shot I have of surviving this is to tell Bella everything. Then maybe, by some kind of miracle from the heavens, I can convince her that I'm not the world's _biggest_ asshole – that I really do like her and am sorry for ever getting her involved in one of James' schemes to begin with. And maybe, just _maybe_, she'll forgive me.

But I don't count on it. Would I forgive me if I was her? I'm not so sure.

"Are we done?" I ask rather rudely, but Emmett is impervious to my harsh tone and casually shrugs.

"I guess so, dude. But hell...at least _think_ about what I'm telling you," he pleads.

"I will, I will," I grumble. And although I'm annoyed, and it seems as though I'm just saying this to placate my friend, it's the truth.

We turn to head back into the restaurant, seeing Rosalie coming at us as we approach the door. She stumbles in her heels and falls to her knees right there at the entrance, crying out as she hits the ground.

Emmett is at her side before I can even process what has happened. Some people standing nearby peer at her curiously, make sure she isn't seriously injured. I rush over to help.

"I think I twisted my ankle!" she moans, clutching at her right foot.

"Here, let me see," says Emmett as he coaxes her hand away.

"Should we take you to the hospital?" I ask, worried. "Here, I can go get Bella--"

"No!" She grabs me by the sleeve of my shirt, her eyes wild. "No, just stay here for a second. I think the pain is easing off. I just need a moment, then you two can help me back inside."

"We may need to have it looked at," Emmett says worriedly. "Or at least go home so we can ice it."

Rosalie still hasn't released my shirt. She looks Emmett square in the eyes and says in a calm, cool voice, "I said no, Emmett. Give me just a second. Okay?"

Emmett frowns. Then he nods knowingly. "Okay, Rose. Whatever you say."

She hangs on to both of us, refusing to let either of us out her sight. We ward off passersby by assuring them she's fine. Finally, the restaurant manager comes to speak to us, offering to call us an ambulance.

Rosalie finally relents. "Alright, I guess we should probably go. I'll ice it and stay off of it for a while. Edward, will you help Emmett get me to the car?"

I'm surprised Emmett doesn't insist on helping her himself – he's a large man, after all, and fully capable – but he silently wraps her left arm around his shoulder while waiting for my assistance. I rush to other side and together we get her to the car.

She thanks me. Emmett pulls some cash from his wallet and thrusts it at me.

"Here, man. And tell Bella we're sorry."

I wave my hand, refusing his money. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

Rosalie looks up at me, anxious but relieved. "Thank you, Edward. Tell Bella I'll call her as soon as I can."

"Sure. Hope you feel better, Rosalie. Call me if you need anything, Em."

He nods, and with one last thank you, he ducks into the car and they pull away.

I don't linger on the sidewalk, instead heading straight back inside the restaurant to Bella. It's strange how that happened, and how the night has suddenly changed. I hope Bella isn't angry that we didn't come to get her before Rosalie left.

She's sitting at the table alone, two heaping desserts sitting untouched before her. She's leaning forward, her elbows on the table, and her eyes meet mine as I approach. But she doesn't smile.

"Hey, Bella." I sit down beside her, already searching for my wallet, and if I'm not mistaken she tenses and leans away from my presence.

"Where are Rose and Emmett?"

"Rosalie twisted her ankle. They decided to go ahead and go. She could barely walk."

Bella nods, her expression darkening.

"Are you okay?"

She instantly softens, giving me a small smile. "I'm fine. I actually have a really horrible headache all of a sudden."

I frown, instantly concerned. "Have you taken anything for it?"

"I don't have anything on me."

"Do you want to go ahead and leave? We can stop by the store on the way home and I'll get you some Advil."

She frowns, regarding me curiously. Then she lowers her eyes from mine.

"Sure, I guess that would be fine," she says quietly.

"Well let me just pay real quick." I look around, scanning the area for our server. "Do you want any of the dessert?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "I'm not hungry."

I nod in understanding. Her headache must really be terrible – she was practically drooling over just the _idea _of dessert a little while ago. Now she seems to lack the energy or willpower for even a simple smile.

The server eventually wanders over and takes my card, reappearing with two boxes for the dessert. Bella apathetically dumps the cake into one of the boxes while I do the same.

We walk to the car in silence. I assume that Bella must not feel like talking. She seems distracted, and not at all worried about Rose, which is strange.

I open her door for her and then hurry to my side.

"Do you want to pick some music?" I ask, gesturing to my iPod, but then think better of it. "Actually, I guess you'd probably rather have silence if you have a headache."

She shrugs indifferently. "It's okay. We can listen to whatever you want."

But I only think of her well-being. "I'll leave it off," I confirm.

It's very odd how her headache has come on so suddenly. I wonder if she gets migraines – I've never had one, but I hear they can be a bitch. I've had people call out of work over them.

I look at her and frown, wondering if her pain is that severe.

Bella stares blankly out the side window as I drive. She silence between us feels ominous, but I don't force her into conversation in case it will worsen her headache. Instead, I let my thoughts wander.

Emmett's thoughts replay through my mind. _Be honest with her_. But is it really that simple? I can tell her every single thing I did and all of my reasoning, but does that mean she'll even consider forgiving me? Just because I'm honest?

I have serious doubts. A big part of me fears she won't give me the chance to explain; an even greater part is scared she'll hear me out and hate me anyway.

I can't blame her. Not really. Which is why I'm sure she'll want nothing more to do with me.

Which is why I'm terrified.

When did I allow someone like Bella to actually _mean_ something to me? I've barely known her two weeks, yet she's managed to get underneath my skin and into my head like no other. My thoughts are filled with her when she's not around – our conversations, her coy looks, her beautiful smile, the way she writhes beneath me while she's coming undone...

I can feel myself growing hard just at the thought of last night. I glance at her, but she's not paying me a bit of attention. I refrain from adjusting myself, not wanting to spotlight my problem, but she's not even looking my way.

The closer we get to her apartment, the more I realize I need to just man up and tell her. It's not as if the bet will go away on its own; even if I ignored it, even if I tried to pursue Bella normally – for my own interests – I would always have the bet lingering nearby, causing so much guilt and grief that I can't even function rationally. And then there is always the chance that she could find out about it, which would never end well. Not if I'm not honest.

But if I tell her about the bet and she wants nothing more to do with me, then I lose. Alice will not gain as I'd hoped, and neither will Jasper. And James will likely be around more often.

But what am I really hoping will happen? That Bella will forgive me and stick around? That she'll sleep with me despite knowing about the bet? That I'll win the bet _and_ win Bella?

Only in a perfect world. But the only hope I have of achieving this is to tell her. To pour my heart out and hope she doesn't hate me. Otherwise, I'll lose one way or another.

Bella faces away from me as she chews her bottom lip thoughtfully. I can't even fucking fathom being with someone else when she's this close. She stirs emotions inside of me that have been long dormant, and I know I can't stand around doing nothing while hoping for the situation to pass. I need to try my best to correct things, even if it means I'm taking a risk.

But when? Not tonight. With that headache, she probably just wants to relax. I'm sure my confession would only make it a thousand times worse. To be honest, there's really nothing I'd like better than to maybe fix her a bath or rub her feet until she feels better. She really seemed to enjoy it when I was rubbing her back last night.

I pull over at a gas station and quickly purchase some pain pills and a bottle of water. She takes them without question, offering me a tiny smile as thanks.

Damn. She really _must_ feel awful.

We're back at her apartment before I even realize it. I haven't had enough time to consider my options, and I'm still at a loss at what to do. But I know that tonight is not a good time. Tonight, I'll just take care of her.

I walk to her side of the car to open her door and help her out. She accepts my hand but pulls away again the second she's on her feet.

I don't ask her if I can come inside. I just know I have stay with her, to help her any way I can. But my reasoning is partially selfish – I feel as thought we've barely had any time together tonight, and certainly no alone time, and the thought of leaving now and not seeing her again until Saturday just doesn't bode well.

But then she turns to me, her eyes cold and exhausted and unfeeling. "I think I'm gonna go upstairs and go to bed," she says. "Sorry to cut our night short. I just really don't feel well."

All my hope, all my expectations, seems to drop out of my chest and land at my feet like a twelve-ton lead.

"I can stay for a while and help you," I say pathetically. I'm just not ready to leave.

"There's no point. I'm just going to go to sleep."

In all honesty, I'd like to lie down with her and stay until she dozes off. It's a terrifying - yet not wholly unwelcome - feeling.

"Can I at least walk you upstairs?" I ask. I want to at least make sure she makes it into her apartment okay.

"I can manage, but thank you."

"I'd really feel better if I walked with you," I protest. "You're looking a little pale." It's true – her usually fair skin is even more so in the light of dusk.

She sighs and finally relents. "Alright, let's go."

The walk upstairs is as uneventful as the car ride. We don't speak and she doesn't look at me. Not until we reach her door.

She slips her key in the lock and finally turns to me. "Thank you for dinner," she says. "I'll call and check on Rose."

"You should probably get some rest," I suggest.

She smiles, though it's not the same, beautiful smile I'm used to seeing. It's sad. It's pained.

Is it really caused from just a bad headache?

"I will, don't worry. I'll talk to you later."

She doesn't kiss me goodbye. She doesn't give me a hug. She doesn't give me any indication that she actually enjoyed tonight, or that she wants to see me again.

She silently slips inside and shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone in the hallway.

---

BPOV

I slump against the door once Edward is out of sight and pray that he doesn't linger in the hallway. I don't think I can take seeing much more of him. Not after that awful text message. I shudder just thinking about it.

That was all the information I had needed. I looked at a few more texts, but that one seemed to be the worst of it. I had nearly three minutes to spare after slipping the phone back into his pocket before he made his way back inside the restaurant.

Or more importantly, three minutes to think.

After all this time thinking he could possibly see me as _more, _it turns out I was wrong. I'm still just a bet to him. He's still eager to win. And by Saturday? After the wedding, perhaps? Does he think this is the second goddamn Wedding Crashers and I'm just going to fall into the sack with him after watching Leah and Jake marry?

Thankfully, I had my three minutes. Otherwise, I probably would have gone ballistic as soon as he returned to the table. I might have stabbed him in the throat with my steak knife. Then I probably would have done CPR on his ass or something because damn, I still don't want him to die. I still fucking _like _him, and at the same time I hate him for it.

And Rose, God bless her. She pretended to twist her ankle? Well, hopefully she was just pretending. She'll do pretty much anything if she thinks it's best for me.

I'm exhausted from tonight's emotional turmoil. I've felt anger, sadness, and then humiliation. I can't believe I let myself get in this deep with him – that I actually defended him to Rose and let him give me an orgasm on the couch for Christ's sake. I mean, what the hell was that about?

It was because I like him. Yet, sometimes liking someone isn't enough. It's not enough if they don't like you, too.

Ursula assaults me as soon as I enter the apartment, immediately circling my legs and rubbing against me. She meows desperately.

I robotically fix her something to eat. I set it down before its had time to soften and she turns her nose up at it in distaste.

Then I see my couch. My motherfucking couch, which was never all that beautiful, but is now less-so due to the shredded chunks of fabric hanging off the armrest. Ursula shamelessly wobbles around, still yowling in her I'm-too-good-for-hard-cat-food hunger, completely unapologetic for what she's done.

I should want to murder her. But I just feel...numb. I just don't care about the couch or about anything.

I take a shower without cleaning out her litter box. Then I get ready for bed, even though it's barely nine o'clock.

My phone rings and it's Rosalie. I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to her – to admit that she was right all along – so I don't answer.

I still feel like I can smell Edward, which is ridiculous considering we barely even touched tonight. I look towards my dresser, its form barely visible in the dark, and imagine him kissing my neck as he stands behind me. I felt genuinely happy in that brief moment, and the thought of never kissing him again causes near physical pain.

And then he was so caring tonight when he thought I had a headache. So doting. He would have stayed with me – I know he would have. And had I not read those messages, I would have gladly let him.

But now, I can't help but wonder if tonight – if everything – was just an act. I wonder whether he was only pretending to care about my headache as a plan to get in my good graces and, subsequently, my bed.

I sigh loudly.

It still feels as though his presence is all around me, my mind conjuring up images I no longer care to see. It's as if my subconscious is clinging to what remains of him, as if it knows this is all it has left.

I lie there for a long time. I forgot to shut the door, so eventually Ursula clambers into the room and miraculously leaps onto the bed. I guess fat cats can jump. She kneads the covers for a few minutes before finally lying down beside me.

She's several inches away, and I haven't touched her, but I hear her purr. It practically vibrates the bed, and for some reason I find the noise soothing.

I reach out to pet her and the purring intensifies.

I realize several things in that moment. Ursula is a very big kitty – not everyone would call her beautiful – and she kind of smells and sheds a lot and she's a sloppy eater. She also knows how to bomb a litter box like no other. But here she is despite all those things, perfectly content to just lie on the bed and purr the night away.

What am I trying to prove to people? What does it matter what they think of me? If they honestly think less of me because I've had my share of unsuccessful relationships then they don't really know the real me anyway. Someone who matters in my life wouldn't judge me over something so petty. They'd appreciate me unconditionally.

I'm not even great friends with them, yet here I am killing myself to try and prove a point. And for what? So that they'll like me? So they'll think more highly of me?

Why does their opinion even matter?

I redress and grab my car keys. I'm out the door in less than two minutes, leaving a very despondent Ursula in my wake.

I call Rose as I'm climbing into my car to let her know I'm coming over just in case she's busy humping Emmett's leg or vice versa- _that_'_s_ something I never want to walk in on. It turns out she's not alone, but she eagerly agrees to meet me at my apartment for some girl time.

I trudge back up the stairs and pace around my living room. I don't know what to do with myself. I reread some of Edward's texts, warping the words for motivation.

_Lies. They're all lies_.

Even the sweet texts are lies! They must be. He only had one purpose in this charade – to bed the sad, abstinent Bella for bragging rights and maybe a hundred bucks or something. What the hell else do men ever bet for?

I should have known anyone who associates with James would be just like him!

Rose let's herself in when she arrives. She eyes me warily, still unaware of the new information I discovered. Her approach is slow, and I assume she's taking precautions after discovering me in such a frantic state.

She stands a good ten feet away, nearly at the door.

"Are you okay?" she asks me.

I freeze and look at her. I'm sure the turmoil is evident in my expression. "No."

"What did the texts say?" she asks, her tone lacking room for nonsense. She wants the truth, and she's not ready to fuck around about it.

I sigh heavily and plop down on the couch. My mind is racing, my thoughts coming in incomprehensible clusters. I can't make sense of exactly _what_ I'm feeling right now.

I look at Rose, silently pleading for her to make sense of this mess.

"He said he should be able to sleep with me by Saturday and that I'm still just a bet." My words come out in one quick rush. Rose's gasp is audible all the way across the room. She's standing in front of me in just three quick strides.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she hisses. She seems so surprised, but isn't this what she expected all along?

I frown, confused.

"No. It's exactly like you said."

"I didn't think...I mean...Emmett just seemed _so _sure..."

My eyes dart to hers. "What are you talking about?"

She sits beside me, equally dismal. "Emmett talked to Edward and...I don't know. He thought he liked you. I mean _liked_ you, liked you."

I huff, not amused and not surprised. Since when has Emmett ever thought rationally about anything?

"Well, he was wrong," I say sullenly.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

I wait for her to tell me she told me so, but it doesn't come. I want to cry. I can feel my irritation ebbing to sadness again, and I hastily wipe at my eyes, completely aware that my face is reddening from holding everything inside.

Rose wraps her arms around me and gives me an honest to goodness hug. I think it's the first time we've ever hugged. And finally, the dam breaks, unleashing not only my tears, but every fear and insecurity - every desperation and longing for this forbidden man – that I had tried to keep concealed.

She listens silently, keeping all opinions to herself. It's very unlike her. And in the end, I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel lighter, as though I can finally breathe again.

My thoughts do not come anymore clearly, but I've come to expect this. At least for tonight.

Rose pulls away to assess me. Her eyes are narrowed and business-like.

"What are you going to do?" she asks me, and again, I'm surprised. I'm surprised she's not instantly demanding me to just do things her way.

"I don't know, I just—ugh!" I wipe my face angrily. The tears have finally stopped, and I'm irritated again.

Good God, I'm having mood swings faster than Susan Boyle.

"Well did you say anything to him?"

"No!"

I'd thought about it, truly. I'd thought about screaming at him right in the middle of that fancy-ass restaurant. But I wanted to regroup first. I wanted to have a clear head when it all came to light – I wanted to be sure _exactly_ what I was going to say.

"Are you still taking him to the wedding?" She eyes me cautiously, as if fearful of my response. I take my time answering.

"Probably....not. I just don't think I can do this anymore," I slowly admit. "I'm exhausted. And I just feel so..._stupid." _God, how stupid I feel!

Rose nods in understanding. She probably feels stupid for me. Sympathy-stupidity and all that.

"I just want to do something," I go on. "I want to make him feel really shitty for ever taking the bet."

"To be honest, Bella, I think he already does feel shitty."

Where is this coming from? Where the fuck is Rose?

"Not shitty enough, apparently. He thinks he can just _use _me? Who does he think he is, anyway?" I spit angrily.

Rose wisely doesn't respond.

"It just pisses me off. You were right. I should have listened to you. I guess I was just _hoping_..." I let my words trail, and Rose's arm is suddenly around my back again.

"Seeing the good in people isn't necessarily a bad thing, Bella," she says.

"It is when there's no good to see."

"I don't think Edward is honestly a _bad_ person. Despite all this shit, Emmett still thinks highly of him. And I honestly trust Emmett's judgment. He wouldn't be friends with Edward all this time if he was like James or worse."

I want to believe her. I really, really want to believe that the text was just a misunderstanding somehow. That Edward didn't really mean it.

"The text said that he'd sleep with me by Saturday. Then James could get out of our lives for good," I tell Rosalie. "He said 'our'. What does that mean?"

"Does he mean the two of you?"

"I don't know. How can I know if I don't even know the terms of the fucking bet? For all I know he's talking about him and _Lauren_." Her name sounds venomous as it leaves my lips. I get sick just thinking about him running to her when this is over. Lauren sharing his bed; her tongue in his mouth, his body covering hers as she gives him everything that I wouldn't...

I want to hurl right there in the living room.

"Bella, you look like you're gonna be sick," Rose interjects, shaking my shoulders lightly. "Maybe you should lie down."

I shake my head furiously, dropping my face into my hands.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," I repeat. But I'm so obviously _not _fine. I peek at Rose. "Rose, there's a bottle of tequila in my freezer. Will you get it for me?" I ask innocently.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she silently stands to retrieve the bottle and two shot glasses. She returns and pours us each a shot, handing one to me.

"Cheers," she mutters, lightly clinking her glass against mine, and together we throw them back.

It burns. It burns and it makes me feel a little nauseous – I rarely ever do shots – but it also feels so _good_.

It feels so good that I take another.

By my third, my thoughts have slowed. I decide to cut it off there – I just wanted something to take the edge off, to ease the pain some. I wanted something to help me slow down and process everything.

Rose only took two shots. She still seems to be pretty clear-headed.

I look at her with fierce determination in my eyes. I finally know what I need to do. It may not be the best decision, and it may not be honorable. It most certainly wouldn't make my mother proud.

But I need to do it. I need..._revenge._

"Rose, I really want to make him pay for making this bet on me," I say seriously. "For making this bet on _any_ woman."

Because we're people. _I'm _people. And if I don't respect myself, how can I expect men to?

She nods and sighs. "I thought it would come to that." She sits up a little straighter, her eyes narrowing mischievously, and I grin. I grin because I know Rose is back, and that she'll gladly help me any way she can.

"I think I have an idea," she says. "But it's going to require a _lot_ of self-control on your part."

I nod, eager to hear her suggestions, because right now I'm open to just about anything.

* * *

**I know this chapter was on the shorter side, and not much happened, but it was necessary. I _will not_ rush this story, no matter how much you beg and plead and scream for me to get on with it :-) The reveal is coming soon enough...next chapter, as a matter of fact. So wear your big-girl panties when you come back for the update next week.**

**ms_ambrosia beta'd and passionmama did her thing prereading and stroking my ego, per usual...lol j/k. But they both help with this story tons.**

**You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1. I'm getting better at tweeting, I swear. And I post teasers!**

**I'm going to try to start updating every Thursday, because I like knowing when the fics I'm reading are gonna update and figure you might, too. If something happens where I don't update on Thursday then I'll announce it on twitter. And finals are coming up very soon for me, so it's possible that things may get a little off schedule for a week or so.**

**Thanks so much for all your comments last chapter. I loved hearing them. BTW, I wasn't able to send an outtake to those of you who reviewed anonymously...sorry. If you PM me I'll send it to you.**

**So what might Rose and Bella be plotting? Hmm...**

**-mybluesky**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to passionmama and HeathersTwilight. Without these two this story wouldn't be half of what it is...especially this chapter. They helped tons. Love you guys!**

**Oh, and I forgot to mention this last chapter, but I get a feeling that some youngins could be reading this story. This story is rated M for ADULT'S ONLY. If you can't buy porn and your mama still slaps you in the jaw everytime you curse, this story isn't for you. Come back when you're 18.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 23

**BPOV**

I have a very restless night. I toss and turn, driving poor Ursula off my bed and out of the room, until I finally give up and take a warm bath. I'm hoping the water will soothe me, but instead it seems to conjure another bout of self-pity until my tears are mixing with the water, the evidence of my sorrow literally all around me.

I haven't felt this bad in...well, I can never remember feeling this bad. Certainly not when James dumped me. No, I had only felt anger then.

But now, with a plan in mind and with the determination to follow through, I don't feel a single bit better about anything. I'm hoping that will change once this is over.

He deserves what's coming to him. Once it's all out in the air – once I've told him how I _really_ feel – things will change.

_Please, God. Let it change_.

I stay in the bath until the water runs cold. Then I stand, redress, and drink some NyQuil. I oversleep by nearly an hour the following morning, but it doesn't matter – I call out of work sick anyway.

---

**EPOV**

I had planned on staying in Seattle tonight, but suddenly – after being so effectively dismissed by Bella – I don't feel there's any reason to. I have to work early, and it makes more sense to drive back to Olympia tonight.

So, I drive. In silence. And my thoughts race and wander and nearly drive me mad.

I wasn't able to tell Bella everything tonight. Not without blurting it out despite her headache and possibly sending her into shock, at least. But tomorrow is another day – tomorrow it needs to be said, headache or not.

Because Emmett is right, that motherfucker. He may be an idiot ninety-percent of the time, but he knows how to make a relationship work. He always has. And has hard as it is to admit, he's probably right about everything he said.

Because deep down, I agree with him. I _know _it's right. And I know what I have to do, no matter how hard it is.

Emmett calls me on the ride home, but I ignore it. I don't feel like talking anymore, especially as I have a good idea as to his preferred topic of conversation. He leaves a voice mail, but I don't listen to it either.

It's late when I get home. I strip to my boxers and call Bella, hoping to check up on her and her headache, but she doesn't answer. I assume she's already asleep.

I quickly listen to Emmett's message – he's urging me to call him back, saying he has something really important to say, but I ignore it. Whatever it is can wait.

He sends me a text message.

_Where the fuck are you? Call me back. - Em_

I log out and get a brief glimpse of my other messages. I see one from James that I don't recognize and frown.

_Why do I get the feeling that you're avoiding my calls? - J_

I check the time the message was sent and realize I received it tonight. I don't remember getting it. Could I have accidentally pressed the button in my pocket? That's possible...

I start scrolling through all my messages, on a whim, and cringe at what I see. Some from Lauren and other girls and some from James. I notice the one I sent to James – the one where I claim Bella is still just a bet to me – and I scoff at the absurdity of my lie. That's obviously not true anymore, and the fact that I could try to claim otherwise is just ridiculous.

I don't even like the idea of such a message being on my phone. In a sudden spurt of paranoia, I erase my entire inbox and outbox of text messages.

I lie down and close my eyes, but something is unsettling to me. I search for its source, find none, and yet still can't seem to relax.

Sleep doesn't come easily.

---

**BPOV**

"You called out of work? You won't get in trouble, will you?" Rose is concerned for my welfare, never-mind the fact that she is sneaking around to call me while _she's_ at work.

It's nearly noon, and I'm just getting out of bed. I kicked Ursula out of the room hours ago. She howled at my door for what seemed like a good four hours straight, probably hungry again, but the noise went mostly unheard. Everything unrelated to Edward seemed to be automatically tuned out from my mind.

I methodically fix her something to eat.

"It's the first time I've called out in two years," I say.

"Jesus. Seriously? What about your sick days?"

"I always save them."

"You're lucky. If we don't use ours we lose them by the end of the year. Everyone always seems to come down with some mysterious funk by December."

I don't really feel like talking about sick days – or anything, for that matter - but it's a much needed distraction.

"Well I guess I'd use mine too, then," I say. My voice sounds lifeless even to my own ears. Rose sighs heavily.

"Are you sure you're okay? I could take off early, you know. Gotta use these sick days sometime."

"No, I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go run or something. Gotta get my game face on." I try to sound positive but fail miserably.

Rose gasps. "You haven't ran in months."

"Shut up. You know it probably won't happen," I say petulantly, and Rose chuckles as she agrees.

"You know, Bella, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," she says kindly. I snort into the phone.

"Trying to talk me out of it?" I ask. "Since when are you 'Team Edward'?"

"I'm not 'Team Edward'," she says haughtily. "You just seem really down in the dumps. I'm honestly not so sure this will make you feel better."

"Of course it will. He's had it coming to him for a while," I assure her. I walk around the kitchen – around Ursula's massive body, which is currently bowed over her food bowl – and pull out cereal and milk. I pour myself a small bowl and eat at the counter while standing.

"We can always think of something that's not quite so—harsh."

"It's not _that_ bad," I argue. I'm irrationally annoyed; I'm already dreading my plan, and having Rose show anything less than her full support is unsettling. "It's not like I'll be hurting his feelings," I go on. _Not that he has any_. "He'll lose the bet and be forced to hear me out. It's pretty genius."

"I guess," she says warily. I roll my eyes.

"It was _your _idea!"

"I know! And you're right, it's genius," she says with an air of confidence. "I just want to make sure it's something _you_ want to do."

"I wouldn't do it if it wasn't," I say. I hear a rustle in the background and Rose briefly speaks to someone else. She returns to our conversation.

"Look, Bella, I gotta go. Will you call me before you go over there? Maybe I can give you a little pep talk before you go," she says.

"Sure," I agree.

When she hangs up, I linger in the kitchen, not wanting to sit on my shredded couch and intent on avoiding my bed. The last thing I need to do is sleep the entire day. I'll never get in the right mind-set that way.

I scroll through my phone, searching the numbers, until it falls upon _his _name. I stare at it a moment, wondering how something that caused those little tingles of pleasure just days ago has suddenly become a thing of dread and regret. I miss those tingles.

I hit send, figuring he must be close to his lunch break, and I'm simultaneously relieved and fearful when his smooth voice answers the phone.

"Hello?"

I release the breath I'd been holding.

"Hey, Edward. It's Bella."

---

**EPOV**

I feel like I'm being pulled in every direction at work. I have meeting upon meeting, most of which I can't concentrate on because my thoughts are swarming with Bella. I still haven't talked to her since last night and, to be honest, I'm a little worried.

I have a meeting at eleven. I'm hoping to take lunch when it's over and call her again, though I'm not sure she'll even answer since she's at work. But it's worth a shot.

And hopefully, she'll agree to see me tonight. Hopefully, I'll be able to tell her every thing that's been plaguing me these past two weeks.

And hopefully, she won't immediately cast me aside as the bad guy.

I'm walking down the hallway and conversing with one of my partners, Mr. Jenks, when I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I peek at it briefly and see Bella's name.

"Excuse me, Mr. Jenks," I say, interrupting him mid-sentence. "This is an important call. I really need to take it."  
He nods knowingly. "Alright then, Mr. Cullen. Perhaps we can talk more over lunch?"

I give him a tight-lipped smile in agreement and then slip inside an empty conference room. The lights are off, but the gray light from the windows spills across the floor.

I answer quickly. "Hello?"

I hear Bella exhale. "Hey, Edward. It's Bella."

It's staggering how relieved I am to hear her voice. She sounds much better today.

"Hey, Bella. How are you? How's your headache?" I quickly ask.

"Oh...it's better. Much better," she assures me.

"That's great. I was kind of worried."

"Oh, no need," she says. "The Advil helped a lot. But I feel bad about cutting our evening short and wanted to see if maybe I could come to your house tonight?"

I'm surprised she's asking instead of just stopping by again. It doesn't matter either way – I'd love to see her and, honestly, I'm relieved it's her asking instead of me.

But is it really such a good idea to tell her everything at _my _house? Then she'd be able to run away, whereas if I was at her apartment she'd be forced to kick me out. And I could always stall if it meant gaining more time to explain myself.

"Are you sure?" I ask. "I don't mind coming to Seattle again."

I'll have to come there Saturday morning for the wedding, after all. I could always just spend the night at my house in Seattle tonight.

"No, no," she hastily protests, and I'm caught off guard by her sudden passion. "I mean, I just really want to get out of my apartment for a little while. It's too small. And there's cat hair everywhere..." her voice trails.

"You can meet me at my house in Seattle," I suggest. "I don't think you've seen it yet."

She hesitates a moment, then agrees. "Yeah, I guess that would be fine."

I'm simultaneously pleased and anxious at the thought of our night. But mostly anxious.

Dreadfully, painfully anxious.

"Great. Do you want me to come pick you up?" I offer.

"No, that's okay. I'll just meet you there. What's the address?"

I rattle it off to her and assume she writes it down. Suddenly, there's a yowling in the background. I frown, confused.

"Is that the cat?" I ask. Bella pauses.

"Yeah. Damn thing never shuts up."

"Are you at home? I thought you had to work."

"I did. But, um...my head still hurt pretty bad this morning. I had to take another Advil. And I overslept, so I just decided to go ahead and call out. Gotta use my sick days sometime."

Her words sound awkward. Something just isn't right about them, and that same feeling of unease settles in again.

"Oh. But you feel better now, though. Right?"

"Yes, much better," she assures again. "But I guess I'll let you go. I didn't mean to disturb you at work."

"No, it's fine. I was just about to take my lunch break anyway."

"What time will you be home tonight?"

"Around six-thirty," I say.

"Okay. I'll see you then."

"Right. Bye, Bella," I say, and we both hang up the phone. I lean back against a table located in the center of the room, nearly sick with apprehension at the thought of tonight.

---

**BPOV**

Ursula and I have a very fun-filled day together. And by fun-filled, I mean terrible.

Desperate for something to take my mine off tonight, I try playing with her using some of her toys. But she won't have anything to do with those. She seems just as anxious as I am, wallowing around the apartment with her nonstop cat-screaming. I fix her something else to eat but, miraculously, she appears to be full.

As a last-ditch effort, I stuff some cat-nip into a mouse toy and toss it to her. She sniffs it curiously, then rubs her face on it before finally plopping down on top of it altogether, rubbing her body around and around on top of the toy. It's the first instance I've seen of true kitty-love. And it's all over some kitty weed.

I shake my head forlornly, but the sight does, in fact, make me feel a little better.

At three o'clock, I start getting ready. I need to look good tonight...no, I need to look _fantastic_. I need to make him know what he's missing and also make him play into my plan.

I feel that same inkling of remorse when I consider what I'm going to do, but I quickly push it all aside. Why should I feel guilty? It's his fault for getting himself in this mess in the first place. Not to mention it's his fault for getting _me _into this mess. And all because I didn't want to sleep with a sleeze-bag like James?

I shake my head. _He deserves this_.

I take a quick shower and begin fixing my hair. Ursula is literally inhaling her food when I enter the kitchen again – she's obviously suffering a bad case of kitty-munchies.

I move past her and fix a cup of hot tea to soothe my nerves. But, of course, it doesn't help.

By the time six-thirty comes around, I'm a bundle of nerves. I drive to Edward's house ten minutes later, determined to be fashionably late – because if he thinks I'm not anxious to see him, it will make him want me more, or so says Rose; I call her for my pep talk along the way.

It's pretty much the same things she said to me the night before. She proclaims her faith in me, asks me what I'm wearing, and wants to know if I cried today. Because crying causes red eyes, which can raise suspicion.

"No, Rose. I haven't cried," I assure her. My anxiety is almost painful. How will I ever pull this off?

"Good," she says. "I'm proud of you."

There's a short pause between us.

"Um, Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"You still haven't told Emmett, right?"

"Of course not, Bella. I told you he'd probably just try to get in the way. You know how he is – he can never mind his own business."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Okay, good."

"Don't worry, Bella. There's nothing stopping you."

I pull onto Edward's street. My heart is beating frantically, nearly painfully, in my chest. A part of me wants to get lost, or perhaps to turn around completely, but another part reasons that that would only delay this torture.

I find the house number and recognize Edward's car in the driveway. I pull in and park beside him, feeling a complete mess.

"I'm here," I tell Rose. My voice is strained.

"Good. Get yourself together," she demands.

"I am, I am."

"And remember – if you let on that something is wrong, this may not work. So just try to calm down. Be confident."

"I _am!" _I snap anxiously.

_"Bella! _Seriously, you have to calm the fuck down!" she practically yells at me, and I suddenly want to chuck my phone across the yard. I haven't been this on edge in _years_.

"Alright, alright. I gotta go." It's obvious that I won't be able to calm myself while having this conversation, so I hastily hang up the phone without waiting for her to say goodbye. Then I close my eyes and slowly count to ten. Then I do it again. And again.

When I open them, I see Edward walking towards me. My eyes widen as I scramble out of my seat belt and out of the car. How long as he been watching me?

"Are you okay?" he asks, frowning.

I smooth my shirt and lean inside the car to retrieve my purse, plastering on a fake smile. "Yes, why?"

"You were out here for a while."

"Sorry, I was talking to Rose."

"How is she doing?" he asks me.

"Hhm?" I'm confused for a moment, then the intent behind his question suddenly dawns on me. "Oh! She's fine. Her leg is just sprained, if anything. She iced it and took some Tylenol and now she's doing much better," I lie.

Edward continues to frown. I wonder if he's figuring me out – if he's on to me – but he doesn't voice his suspicions if they exist.

"Well that's good," he says, and I eagerly agree.

We make our way inside his house. It's not that unlike his home in Olympia – everything is clean and the yard is immaculate. There are no shoes at the door. There's not even any dirt on his mat.

It looks like a home straight out of a catalog. It's charming, not overly large, and I really like it.

I hover in the foyer for a second. I feel so awkward, so out of place knowing I'm here with dishonorable intentions. Does Edward ever feel this way with me?

Edward turns around and catches me lingering uncertainly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks worriedly, and I jump-start to attention.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say, hurrying the rest of the way inside. There's a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, I presume. Didn't he just get home twenty minutes ago? "What's that smell?"

He smiles, but the gesture doesn't reach his eyes. There's something bothering him as well, it seems, though I haven't a clue what it could be.

"I thought I'd cook you dinner this time," he says.

I stand back and finally appraise him for just how handsome he is. He's wearing a blue button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up and pushed back, exposing his arms. The top three buttons are undone – I assume he must have become overheated while cooking – and his hair is in an even greater state of disarray than usual. His jaw has a faint shadow of stubble, just a hint of hair that has grown throughout the day.

"But didn't you just get home?" I ask, curious. "How did you have the time?"

"I managed to get out a little early." He shrugs. "I really just got started. It's not done yet. I should probably go check it before something catches on fire." I have a feeling he isn't joking.

I follow behind him as he enters the kitchen. There's something boiling on the stove, and he hastens to stir it. The smell is stronger in here, nearly overwhelming.

"What are you making?" I ask.

He glances at me. "Don't laugh," he says seriously, and I can't help but smile. "I'm trying to make Chicken Marsala. It's the only thing that seemed feasible for me."

I notice the bottle of wine sitting on the counter. The chicken is currently simmering in it, and penne noodles are boiling away on the opposite side of the stove.

"Did you add garlic?" I ask curiously. The smell is very powerful.

"Um, there's garlic bread." He glances at me nervously. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason." I force another smile. "It smells great."

"It's in the oven." He peeks at it through the glass door of his stove and curses. "Fuck!" Like a flash, he grabs an oven mitt and snatches the pan out. The bread is charred to a black crisp and reeks an awful stench once the door is opened. I scrunch my nose and step away, alarmed.

"Is that the bread?" I ask dumbly, because it so obviously is. Edward is still muttering and swearing under his breath.

"Yes, damn it." He sounds exasperated.

"It looks, um...tasty," I jokingly supply. I just can't help myself. Edward shoots me a curious look, one mixed with confusion, offense, and helplessness, and suddenly I'm overcome with a bout of hilarity. I laugh openly, much to his dismay.

"I'm glad my cooking skills are entertaining to you," he grumbles. But he doesn't look mad.

"I'm sorry," I say between my giggles. "It's very sweet of you." And it is.

_If only his intentions were good_.

He throws the bread in the garbage. "Well I guess the pasta is enough of a carb," he reasons.

"Absolutely. I've never understood the point of eating bread with pasta anyway."

He furrows his brow at me. "Is that right? Cause just last week you were scarfing both of them down."

"I said I didn't understand it, not that I didn't _eat_ it," I clarify with a roll of my eyes. "And is there something wrong with having a healthy appetite?"

"I didn't say that."

"Kind of sounds like you implied it," I say, feigning offense, but I'm really only teasing.

Edward looks at me, his eyes holding only sincerity as they bore into mine.

"Bella, you're the most beautiful fucking woman I've ever seen. You could eat ten full meals a day for all I care."

_Wow. How's _that _for romantic?_

Nonetheless, it takes my breath away. Not only because of the words, but because of the honesty laced behind them. It's there – I could see it. I could _feel _it.

I stare at him, somewhat in disbelief, until he breaks our gaze and looks down at the food. "We really need to talk tonight," he says.

_Oh yes, we do_, I silently agree.

"About?" I inquire. He gives me a small, sad smile.

"After dinner. Okay?" he asks, and I nod in agreement.

Suddenly he covers the food and approaches me, his eyes dark. I don't back down from him – I feel trapped, frozen in place under his gaze.

He stops only inches in front of me. I can feel the heat of his body through his shirt, that mysterious tingle that practically pulls my body to his. He gazes down at me while I look up at him.

"I missed you last night," he murmurs, stroking my cheek. His fingers travel across my skin, down my neck, and I quickly close my eyes. I can feel my heart racing.

"I missed you, too," I whisper, and suddenly his lips are pressed against mine. He wastes no time, his tongue immediately pushing through my lips, conquering my mouth. The force pushes me back a step or two, but his hands immediately grasp my waist, holding me steady. Instantly, my hands are around his neck and I tug him close.

The kiss isn't gentle or soft. It's needy. It's desperate.

And I cling to him, aching for more.

**---**

**EPOV**

I'm reluctant to pull away – I'm reveling in her taste, her scent, the feel of her soft skin against mine. I take joy in the small noises that escape her throat as I back her into the counter, where I press my body flush to hers.

She meets my hunger and need with equal passion. Neither of us wants to let go. I trail my lips down her neck, to her shoulder, hungrily ravishing any exposed skin I can find, and she throws her head back and moans, granting me easier access to more of her creamy skin.

The oven alarm sounds, signaling that the chicken is done, but we ignore it. I couldn't care less about the food – Bella is all I want, every inch of her that I can have before thoughts and feelings are exposed. Before she runs out and leaves me for good.

I grab her behind her thighs and hoist her onto the counter, causing her to gasp. This brings us closer to eye-level; her eyes are dark as she leans forward to capture my lips again.

I moan into her mouth. She pulls away briefly.

"You should turn the stove off," she urges.

I nod distractedly and hurry to turn off the burners. I silence the alarm and immediately return to Bella, where she sits enticingly on the counter, breathing heavily. Her eyes are heavy with lust as she watches me. I eagerly move to stand between her legs, my own breathing erratic as she grabs the collar of my shirt to pull me closer. Her lips find mine again.

Her fingers begin moving down my shirt, popping each button. I run my hands along her outer thighs and to her backside.

"I want you," she breathes against my lips, and I fear my ears must be deceiving me.

She wants me here? Now?

And God, how I fucking want her. I'm straining painfully in the tight confines of my pants, desperate to be free and sheathed in something warm. Sheathed in _Bella_.

Her body is hot against mine, her fingers trailing fire across my skin as she pushes my shirt over my shoulders. I lean back slightly so that it can be pulled away and discarded on the floor. Her nails rake across my chest as I return to her neck, gently biting and sucking.

This is what I want. I want to be here, now, with Bella. Inside Bella. I want to gain a night of pleasure without thinking of the repercussions of my actions.

But when her hands find the loop of my belt, I instantly freeze, my entire body tensing. It's as though I have two sides to my brain and, thankfully, my rational side is making an appearance. It knows this is wrong. _I _know this is wrong.

Bella is oblivious to my reaction, or else does not care, for she easily slides the belt from the buckle and goes for the button of my pants. I put my hand over hers to still her movements.

"Bella," I breathe, "we really need to talk."

Her eyes find mine, burning with a fire I've never seen.

"We have our whole lives to talk, Edward," she assures with confidence, and suddenly her hand is inside my pants, stealthily wrapping around my cock.

I gasp and try to take a step back, but with her hand on my dick and my shirt in her fist, the move is nearly impossible. She draws me back to her body, back to her lips, and I suddenly melt beneath her hold. I attack her hungrily, groaning into her mouth as her hand moves up and down my shaft.

I'm so overcome with lust and longing that I can barely think. It feels like I've yearned for her touch for ages – that I've waited forever for this moment – and now I'm folding to that desire, crumbling beneath the instinct and passion that she's eliciting from me.

I push Bella's shirt up, exposing the smooth skin of her stomach, and she instantly pulls her hand from my pants so that she can tear the shirt from her body. The loss of contact leaves me feeling cold and desperate for more.

She reaches behind her back and unhooks her bra. The material loosens and I pull it away, revealing her perfect breasts. I lean down and instantly take a hard nipple into my mouth, causing her to gasp.

I pay equal homage to her other breast. Bella pants, her fingers twisting in my hair.

"Take me to bed, Edward," she pleads. Her words are strained and needy.

I gaze up at her. "Bella..."

"_Please_, Edward!"

She's begging me. _Begging_. This is everything I've wanted at possibly the most inconvenient time.

"I don't want to do anything you're going to regret, Bella," I say helplessly. I expect her to question me, or to get angry with me, and for a moment I think she does. She pushes me away and slides off the counter.

My eyes zone in on her breasts, her _beautiful _breasts, and I reluctantly force them back to her face.

"I'm a big girl, Edward," she says simply, and she slips out of the room. I can hear her soft footsteps on the stairs.

I stand in the kitchen for a moment to get my bearings. I feel completely disarmed.

Finally, I follow her upstairs. I can only guess where she's gone – I stand outside the partially cracked door to my bedroom for a moment, listening for signs of life from within.

I timidly push the door open and look inside. She's lying on my bed, still in her jeans while propped on her elbows with one leg slightly bent. She bites her lip when she sees me and I have to suppress a moan.

"Are you okay, Edward?" she asks innocently. I lean in the doorway, wary. It takes every ounce of self-control to not instantly sprint to her and ravish her body.

"Why are you doing, Bella?" I ask her curiously. She looks confused.

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't you."

Her eyes widen slightly for a moment, and I wonder if I've touched a nerve or otherwise unlocked a dirty little secret she's been hiding.

She sits up on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her breasts are suddenly blocked from my view.

She looks nervous. "I have a surprise," she says, piquing my interest. "I'm sorry about that. I just...I really like you, Edward." Her eyes find mine, imploring. "But I didn't mean to throw myself at you like a...I don't know..." She looks down in shame. I'm at her side in less than a second, wrapping my arm around her bare back.

"Please don't say that, Bella," I beg. "I mean...God, if you had _any_ idea how badly I want you..."

She looks at me, her eyes questioning. "Then why did you stop me?"

I sigh heavily, pulling her against my chest. "Because you deserve better, I guess," I say reluctantly.

"Why do I deserve better?"

"We'll talk later, Bella. Alright? Let's go get something to eat first."

She looks down between her knees, seemingly lost in thought. Then she raises her head and smiles at me, her beauty – her ruffled hair and bare skin – devastating.

"Well let me give you your surprise first," she pleads, and I nod, intrigued as to what it could be.

"Alright."

"I'll need to blind-fold you," she says. I frown.

"How come?"

"Because it's a _surprise_, Edward. Didn't your parents ever blindfold you on your birthday?"

Today isn't my birthday but, nonetheless, she looks excited. I'd do nearly anything to please her, so long as it wouldn't hurt her in the end.

"Sure, I guess," I say uncertainly. She grabs a shirt from inside my nightstand and pulls it around my face, covering my eyes. She ties it snugly in the back, but not too tight. I feel her small hand touch my neck, traveling to my chest, her nails raking gently across my skin. She pushes me backwards.

"Lie down," she says. "I'll go get it."

I silently comply and feel her weight shift off the bed. I can hear a rustle in the room, and the soft clinking of metal. What is she doing?

The bed shifts again as she climbs over me. Even when she's not touching me, I can practically feel the heat of her skin traveling to mine.

She brushes our noses together. Then our lips.

"I kind of like you this way," she whispers seductively, and I lean forward, more fully capturing her lips with my own. I moan into her mouth again as her hands travel down my chest, my sides, all the way to the edge of my pants and back again. She's feeling me, teasing me, and it's a thousand times more erotic with the blindfold. My dick is straining in protest, twice as hard as it was before.

"Bella," I say huskily, and she shushes me with her lips. Her tongue enters my mouth, tasting and teasing, and I respond eagerly, my fingers sliding through her hair as I hold her to me. She sits down right on my covered erection, causing me to groan. Spurred on by the noise, she shifts on top of me.

"Fuck, Bella," I hiss. She begins kissing my jaw and my neck, taking the edge of my earlobe inter her mouth. I feel like I'm going to explode inside my pants.

"Tell me what you want, Edward," she whispers, her words hot in my ear. I can feel my control slipping away. Her lips travel south, down my chest and over my nipples. She rakes her nails down my abdomen, causing every cell on my body to stand on alert.

I can barely find my voice, and when I do it doesn't sound like my own. "I want you, Bella. Only you."

She brings a hand to either side, sliding them up and over my skin, until she's pushing my arms up over my head. I easily comply, too caught up in the moment to think, let alone deny her in any way.

"I'll bet you do," she says seductively. She presses her lips forcefully against mine, rendering me speechless. "And speaking of bets..." she adds as an afterthought once she pulls away.

Suddenly, there's the sound of metal snapping and clinking above my head. Suddenly, there's cold steel circling each of my wrists.

I reflexively try to snatch my hands back down, but they're trapped, imprisoned by what feels like a set of handcuffs.

_What the fuck is going on?_

I try again, to no avail. Bella sits on my stomach, her weight barely registering, and tears the blindfold from my eyes.

Her eyes are a curious sight – they're sad, remorseful, and angry, each emotion rolled delicately into the chestnut brown. I'm sure my own eyes are wide in alarm.

"What are you doing?" I ask her.

She's breathing heavily. She's flushed, yet her face is anguished.

She pulls the shirt she used to blindfold me over her head, covering her bare chest. The she silently stands and begins tugging off my shoes. I'm too bewildered to fight her.

"Bella?" I try again.

She looks at me. She wants to look angry, I can tell, but her gaze is still clouded with remorse. I have no fucking idea what's going on, but I'm not too happy about my current situation. I look up to see the chain of the handcuffs looping through my headboard. She has only used one pair.

Is she trying to seduce me? Kill me? What the _fuck_? Why isn't she talking?

She grabs at the zipper of my jeans and I curl my knees forward, trying unsuccessfully to remain out of her reach. I'm suspicious and highly protective of my goods all of a sudden.

"What is this _about, _Bella? What the fuck is going on? _Talk to me_!"

Her eyes meet mine and, finally, they reveal an underlying ferocity. "You _know_ what this is about."

But I have no clue. I rack my brain, desperate for an answer. Did I talk to a woman again? No, not since Lauren...and she knew about that...

_And speaking of bets..._ Her words ring in my ears, and I'm suddenly overcome with a sense of dread. Could she know what I was going to tell her tonight? But how?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, struggling to remain calm. She's pissed, and I'm handcuffed. This can't end well.

"Oh, really?" she says angrily. She seems to have gathered some unknown courage from somewhere. "Well let's sit down and think for a minute. Two weeks ago, you approached me at a club. And two weeks ago, _my _friend overheard _you_ making a bet that you could sleep with poor little chastity-virgin-queen-wannabee-Bella. Does that sound about right to you?"

I freeze, my entire respiratory system halting in fear as I try to wrap my head around these words.

She knows about the bet. She knows. She fucking _knows_...

I can't talk. I can't think. I'm not even sure I'm still conscious until I hear her speak again.

"That's right, Edward. I know about the bet," she says angrily. "Game over. You lose."

"Bella, it's not what you think," I say, suddenly finding my voice. "Okay, it is what you think. But _please _let me explain."

_Please God..._

"You've had two fucking weeks to explain everything, Edward. Two fucking weeks to redeem yourself and tell me the truth."

"I was _going_ to, Bella! Tonight! I swear to God..."

"God isn't here to vouch for you, Edward. You fucked up all by yourself."

"God damn it, Bella. Just _please _listen to me!"

She begins tugging at my jeans again, clearly trying to pull them off. "What are you doing?" I ask her.

She looks up at me innocently. "I thought this was what you wanted, Edward," she says, her tone malicious. I cringe at her words.

"It's not like that, Bella," I ramble. "I mean...God. Can we please just talk about this? Undo the handcuffs..."

"I can't," she says briskly. "I don't have the key."

What the _fuck_??

"I know you have the key, Bella," I say, though that's a complete lie. I have no idea what she has, or what she's planning. She's got my jeans pulled down nearly to my knees, my boxers the only barrier to my softening cock.

"No you don't," she says sharply. "You don't know anything about me. If you did, you would've never made the fucking bet. If you knew anything about women – about fucking _people_, Edward – you wouldn't have made the fucking bet. I'm not a toy. You can't just play me however you want so that you can get your fucking money or whatever it is that was just _so _important--"

"I didn't bet money!" I interject.

"Then what was it, huh? What was so important that you'd just disregard someone's feelings over? A car? Bragging rights?"

"It's a long story, Bella. But _please_ undo the handcuffs and I'll explain everything..."

"Save it, Edward. I'm done. I don't want to hear it anymore."

She stands and walks out of the room, leaving me alone, my arms above my head and my pants at my ankles. I fear she's gone for good and I panic, wondering how long I'll have to stay this way before someone realizes something's wrong and finds me. The whole weekend? Longer?

Would she really do that to me?

"Bella!" I yell, but there's no answer.

I feel like I've been stabbed in the chest. The pain is damn near physical and damn near debilitating.

I like Bella. Despite any attempts to hide it, it's true. I've known it was true for days, at least, and I'd been pretty sure she likes me, too. There was _something_ there, whether she wants to admit it or not. No one is that good of an actress.

"Bella!" I scream again.

_She wouldn't do this,_ I inwardly chant. _She didn't leave. She wouldn't. She's not capable of just leaving me here..._

But another minute passes, and suddenly I'm not so sure.

---

**BPOV**

I search everywhere for his phone – the kitchen, the living room, in his jacket pocket inside the closet. I eventually find it atop the entertainment stand, the black case blending in with the dark finish of the wood.

I can hear Edward yelling for me, his voice desperate, and I have to battle away my tears.

_What are you doing, Bella? You're stooping to his level!_

_But he deserves this! He needs to learn us women don't fuck around! He can't just play us!_

_But what if James does something to him?_

_Fuck that, they're obviously friends. He'll give him a hard time. That's all. Then they'll probably scout out the next woman to victimize..._

_This is wrong. Something's not right. You've hung out with Edward for two weeks. You _know_ him._

_Our entire relationship is a lie. He hasn't been honest with me._

_But have you been honest with him?_

I scowl, forcing aside my internal reflections, and head up the stairs again. I wipe my face, determined to stay strong. I'm ready to wipe my hands of this for good.

Maybe then, I can move on. I can learn. I can grow. And I can start over.

Edward doesn't bother hiding his sigh of relief when I reenter the room.

"Oh, thank God," he breathes, clearly glad to see me. He probably thought I was gone for good.

I stand in front of him with my arms crossed. I'm too upset to enjoy the sight of him spread before me, nearly naked, but I work hard to keep my features calm.

"You really hurt me, Edward," I say, because he needs to know this. I desperately want him to understand just an inkling of how I feel right now.

"I'm _so _fucking sorry, Bella," he says, his voice pleading. "Please just talk to me. Don't leave like this..."

"Give me one good reason why I should give a fuck about what you have to say," I demand angrily. The text message flashes to my mind. "You know, I actually thought you...God, I actually thought you cared." My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. I forcefully wipe away a few stray tears and pull myself together. "What a joke, right?" I say humorlessly. "I guess the bet's on me. Literally."

"I _do _care," Edward protests. "I care about you so much it scares the shit out of me, Bella."

But of course he would say this. Anything to please me, to get himself out of those handcuffs.

The text message flashes through my mind again, as if its image is on repeat, and it gives me the strength to go on.

I pull the key to the handcuffs out of my pocket. Edward's eyes widen hopefully when he sees it.

"I lied, Edward," I say icily. "I do have the key. It'll be right here." I lay it on his dresser, ignoring the way his face falls as the light metal hits the wood.

"I'm not gonna leave you here," I snap at him. "I'm sure you have a buddy who will help you out. Let's see..." I scroll through his contacts and find James' number. "Here we are."

I show him the name on the screen and then lay the phone on his heaving chest. I've already put it on speaker phone; all that's left is hitting 'send', which will dial.

"Bella, please don't do this," he tries again, and I know, despite how strong I try to be, that I'm insanely close to breaking down and ripping those handcuffs off of him. But what would that prove? What would that teach him?

After this incident, I can say with some certainty that he's not likely start a little game like this again. Next time, he'll remember me. And he'll know better.

I force away my doubt, but I know it won't be gone for long. I only have seconds, at the most, and I need to make them count.

And then I need to get the hell out of here as fast as I can.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I say, because I am. I'm sorry it ever came to this; I'm sorry we had to meet this way, and I'm sorry he has such a misconstrued conception of relationships.

I'm sorry I care so much more than he does.

"Bella..." he starts, but I quickly hit the send button on his phone. I glance down, just to make sure it's calling James, and it is. I hear the first ring through the phone's speaker.

His eyes meet mine one last time. They're imploring. They're desperate.

"Please don't do this," he says one last time. "Please stay and talk to me."

But I don't listen. It's too late for talking.

"I'm sorry," I repeat quietly. I can barely hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.

I turn for the door and hear James answer the phone just as I'm leaving the room.

"What's up, man?" He sounds ecstatic to hear from Edward. "Bed the ice-queen yet? Taken the old skin boat to tuna town?"

I can feel my face reddening as my temper flares. I get the sudden urge to turn back and shank Edward as originally planned, or else give them _both_ a piece of my mind, but I simply don't have the energy. And anything said to James should be said in person, where I'm capable of invoking bodily harm as well.

I feel lots of things as I head down the stairs: sadness, humiliation, remorse. But mostly anger over what James just said, the words which further confirm my entire argument.

I make sure all his appliances are turned off in the kitchen. I make sure his bedroom light is still on, and I can see it from the road, so that later tonight I'll be able to confirm whether he made it out of the handcuffs or not.

I slide into my car and crank the engine. Paula Abdul's voice instantly pours from my speakers, and it's so fitting – so ironic – that I can't help but smile a little triumphantly.

_He's a cold-hearted snake_

_Look into his eyes_

_Oh ooh_

_He's been tellin' lies_

_He's a lover boy at play_

_He don't play by the rules_

_Oh oh oh_

_Girl don't play the fool_

I don't look back as I drive away. I don't regret what I've done, and I don't dwell on whether it was the right thing to do.

I haven't stuck up for myself in years, and it was a change long past due. This time, the girl's not playing the fool.

* * *

**A/N: Paula Abdul's song _Cold Hearted_ can be found here: www(dot)youtube(dot)com(slash)watch#!v=XN-Qq2umKZo**

**Thanks to ms_ambrosia for being an awesome beta as always and thanks to all my readers and reviewers. You guys really know how to brighten my day.**

**I know things are angsty now, but...really, this type of conflict is necessary if these two are ever going to get past this bet thing. Or maybe I just REALLY wanted me some handcuffed Edward, idfk ;-) But just hang in there. It should start getting light again from here on out, for all of you who are missing the humor.**

**I'm going to try and post again next Thursday, but no promises. I'm working this weekend and have a final next week. Real life beckons. Follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 and I'll announce there when I can update for sure. I also post teasers.**

**I wrote another outtake of EMMETT POV on his conversation with Edward in chapter 22 that I'm sending to all reviewers. Cause really, reviewers are special readers who deserve a little special something extra. And I'm a review whore. It's win-win. **

**If you missed the EPOV outtake, go check it out on the thread here: www(dot)twilighted(dot)net(slash)forum(slash)?f=44&t=7977&p=988129#p988129. I can only focus on sending out one outtake at a time. Yeah, cause I'm simple like that.**

**-mybluesky**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 24

EPOV

"Hello? Dude, are you there?"

I hear Bella's descending footsteps on the stairs outside my room. I'm breathing heavily, unable to believe this is actually fucking happening.

"Hello?" James repeats.

"Yeah, dude. I'm here," I finally say. My voice nearly cracks from the emotional strain; I quickly clear my throat.

"Well what's up?" he asks coolly. My mind spins as I scramble for a last minute solution to this problem.

If there's one thing I'm certain, it's that I'd rather die chained to this bed than to be saved by James motherfucking Smith.

"Um, just returning your call," I offer lamely. I shift on the bed but cringe when the handcuffs make a noise. I can hear Bella cranking her car outside and my heart lurches at the thought of her leaving.

This isn't how I expected things to go at all. Did I expect her to slap me? Yes. Did I expect her to call me names and leave? Definitely.

Did I expect to be chained to the bed and have her go all crazy Lorena Bobbit-esque on me? Hell no.

"Yeah, so? You bed her yet?" he asks impatiently.

"Nah. But I still have one more week, right?" I'm being much friendlier than usual. More than anything, I just want him to hang up. Now.

He snorts. "Yeah, sounds like you're gonna need it, too. Every last single day. Hey, I never said it was gonna be easy laying the ice princess, did I?"

"No, James. Guess not," I say, biting back the retort I really want to give. God, how he annoys me. Just hang the fuck up already. "Alright, well I was just giving you an update," I say dismissively. "I'll let you go."

"Alright, dude," he says, obviously amused. "Good luck with that. You'll have to pray to the gods of Tuna Town if you ever want to hit it. She's something else, I tell ya."

I bite my tongue. _Don't say anything, don't say anything, don't give him the satisfaction..._

"Bye, James."

"Peace." He hangs up. I sigh loudly in relief and silently rejoice as my cell phone clicks and cuts off.

But now what? Jesus Christ. Did she seriously leave me this way? What's a man to do? And with my pants at my ankles, no less! What the hell?

I lie here for a minute contemplating my situation. The key is on the dresser. I can see a glimpse of the silver from my spot on the bed. But how will I get to it?

I scoot as close as I can to the headboard. Then I turn and, with my feet towards the headboard, I try to pull my pants up before giving up and snatching them off. They're getting in the way more than anything.

I put my feet on the floor and find that I can actually stand up despite being cuffed. Slowly, tortuously, I grab the middle of the headboard and begin tugging, willing the bed to slide across the floor. It's a slow process, and I curse the fact that I just _had _to have a king size bed. For fucking what, exactly? It's not like I'm sharing it with anybody.

And what the hell was I thinking buying this huge-ass bed frame? Who needs a headboard? A mattress on the floor would have worked just fine...

Pulling the bed is slow work due to my awkward angle. And it doesn't want to slide easily across the carpet. Then, when I'm halfway to the dresser, the corner of the bed hits the side wall and gets stuck. It won't budge another inch.

Fuck my life.

I'm breaking up a huge sweat by the time I get it unstuck. I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. And when I reach the dresser I discover my hands, entrapped by the cuffs, won't reach the tiny little key. I have to knock it down with my foot and it goes skidding beneath the bed.

Fuck my life.

I heave and shove and push until I get the bed moved far enough to retrieve the key. I can't reach it with my hands, so I face the daunting task of trying to pick it up with my feet. I feel fucking pathetic, sitting here in my underwear trying to toe a tiny key off the floor while chained to a bed. What has become of me?

But alas, I finally get it in my hands. I've never felt so fucking triumphant before.

I shove the key into the lock, freedom ringing in my ears, only to twist and...nothing. It turns and turns to no avail.

My heart hammers as I pull the key back out and examine it. There's a piece missing – an important piece. A fucking vital piece. A piece that's required if I ever want to get out of these damn handcuffs.

Missing. Gone.

Fuck. My. Life.

I sit back down on the bed, exasperated, and try to calm down. _This isn't the end of the world. You'll think of something else. You still have your phone. You can call someone..._

There's suddenly a bang downstairs followed by heavy footsteps. I'm instantly alarmed. That's _definitely _not Bella.

Before I can react – although really, what can I do? - there's a loud knocking at my bedroom door.

"Edward? You decent?"

It's Emmett. And as much as I don't want him to see me in this compromising situation, I'm relieved. My options are limited, and at least there's hope for me now.

"Yeah, man. I'm decent." My tone is more sullen than I intend for it to be. The door instantly swings open and Emmett's eyes widen comically as he takes in my sweaty, disheveled, nearly naked appearance.

"Holy shit!" he exclaims. "She really fucking did it!"

I'm more than a little peeved at his reaction. "You _knew_ she was going to do this?" I ask angrily.

"Well, yes," he admits. "_After _the fact, though. But damn! I didn't think Bella had it in her."

I sigh and lower my eyes. I try to raise my hand so I can tug at my hair – a terrible habit – but the cuffs stop me, the sensation actually stinging a bit. All the tugging and pulling has left my wrists sore.

I don't know what to say to Emmett. Is he proud of her? Probably so. It's likely he'll never let me live this down.

"Well that's great," I say sarcastically, though in reality it's anything _but_. This is all one big fucking mess, and I feel like I'm going to go mad before it's over with.

Why didn't I just tell her last night? Headache be damned, I should have told her when I had the chance. But would things have ended any differently? She wouldn't be armed with handcuffs, I'd imagine. Unless she carries a secret stash in her purse for such occasions.

"Did she at least leave the key?" Emmett asks, and I hold up the tiny broken thing for him to see. But he doesn't notice that it's useless. "So what are you waiting for? Can you not unlock yourself?"

"It's broken," I grumble. I toss it aside, onto the floor, and Emmett quickly bends to scoop it up. He lets out a long whistle.

"Damn, dude. It's like you have an army of bad luck bitches following you around tonight."

"What the hell am I going to do, Emmett?" I ask, feeling hopeless and annoyed. He's right – today I have the worst luck in the world.

"Are you at least able to throw some pants on or something?" he asks, and I can tell he's holding back his amusement.

"In case you didn't notice, I'm kind of fucking handcuffed over here," I snap. But I make a mental note to bite my tongue, because the last thing I want to do is run Emmett off while I'm stuck this way.

"Alright, alright. I was just asking. Here." He looks at the handcuffs a moment, jiggling them around and tugging. I hiss as they rub against my already raw skin.

"These are solid," he confirms.

_No shit_.

"I have an uncle who has a saw," he goes on. "Let me call him. He might be able to cut you out."

"Are you kidding me? Don't they make spare keys for these things?" I whine.

"Where the hell am I going to get a spare key to handcuffs from?"

"I don't know. A toy store?"

"These are fucking police cuffs, dude. They're different. I don't even know where the hell she got these."

I can't exactly ask him to go to the local station and request a key for his cuffed friend. I sigh in resignation. "Fine, call your uncle."

"Give me five minutes. And at least try to put some pants on, dude. I can practically see your junk." He throws my pants at me and walks out the bedroom door. I can hear him stomping down the stairs.

For five gruesome minutes I struggle to pull my pants back on. It's no easy task with my hands chained in such an awkward position. Emmett returns just as I'm slipping them over my ass and he praises me on a job well done.

"See man, I knew you had it in you," he says happily. "It's good thing you got them on, too. Because I kind of have bad news." He pauses, as if letting this information sink in. I grow impatient.

"So? Spit it out, Em. I've been chained here almost two hours already."

"Well his saw is part of this huge-ass machine or something," he explains. "So we're going to have to go to him."

Is he fucking kidding me?

"And how the hell are we going to do that?" I ask, my tone dripping with annoyance. Everything just seems to get worse and worse. "Should we load the bed up in my car or yours?" I ask sarcastically.

"We'll just have to take the headboard off." He seems immune it my griping, which is fortunate. I really should be nicer to him – without him here I'd be royally fucked.

I sigh loudly. "Alright, then. Let's do it."

Emmett drags the mattress and box spring off the bed and props them against the wall. We quickly discover another stroke of misfortune - the headboard is bolted to the bed frame.

"Have any tools?" Emmett asks.

I groan. "They're at my other house."

"Well fuck, dude. I might want to step away from you before I get struck by lightning or something," he jokes, but I can't find it within me to even crack a smile.

I wonder what Bella is doing right now. Is she happy? Is she rejoicing? Or does she feel just as shitty about everything as I do?

Emmett wiggles the headboard against the frame. "We'll just break it off," he says simply.

_Jesus Christ_.

"It's not going to be that easy," I immediately argue.

"Sure it will be. Here, stand back."

I look at him like he's gone crazy. "Stand back? I _can't _stand back!"

"You know what I mean. Just step away as far as you can. Or on second thought, it'll probably go faster if you help me bend it. So come on."

I reluctantly step forward to help him. Together, we pull the headboard down, bending the metal frame and ripping the bolts straight through the wood. It's nowhere near as easy as he implied, and we're both sweating again when it's over.

But alas, it is eventually over, and I'm soon navigating down the stairs with a huge headboard in my hands. Emmett is hot on my heels, carrying my shoes.

"Keep it steady!" he annoyingly coaches. "You're about to take out your entire stair rail!"

"I got this, Emmett. I got it!"

We take his SUV, which is bigger, and he has to let the backseat down before I can slide into the back with the headboard. Rather than help, Emmett stands outside the door and bitches as I try to maneauver the giant-ass headboard inside.

"Do _not _scratch the paint, dude. I won't hesitate to leave your ass here if you try to mutilate my car with this shit."

It's an extremely tight fit; the wood extends all the way into the front passenger seat. I cram myself awkwardly beneath the wood and lean against the door. I pray that no cop sees us and pulls us over.

The first part of the ride is spent in silence. The air conditioner blasts against my bare chest, but it feels good.

Then my mind begins to race, swimming with thoughts of Bella and the bet and every fucked up thing that has happened since two weeks ago. Has she always known? Or did she just find out? Was everything she ever said to me – every moment we had together – a lie?

It's no less than I deserve, but I hope I'm wrong. I _pray_ I'm wrong.

Why am I still pining over this woman? She hates me, that much is obvious. I'd do well just to let it go and count my losses. Years from now this will just be a funny story, a fucked up memory.

But it's not funny. It _is _fucked up. And I don't want Bella to be just a memory.

Emmett begins humming in the front seat. I'm instantly annoyed again, but rather than lash out at him, I begin firing off questions to the things plaguing my mind right now.

"What were you doing at my house?"

His humming instantly ceases. "Saving your ass," he says haughtily. "Obviously."

"How did you know my ass needed saving?"

He pauses for a moment as if debating his response. "Rose told me what Bella was doing," he finally admits.

"So you and Rose talk about everything," I state, repeating his words from the night before. "How long has she known about the bet?"

He looks at my through the rear-view mirror. "Why the fuck did you make the bet, Edward?"

"I asked you first."

He stiffens. Finally, after a dreadful pause, he answers. "She's known the whole time."

I sigh woefully, wondering what this means. Rose wouldn't possibly have allowed this without Bella knowing. "And Bella?"

His eyes meet mine again. They're reeling with uncertainty. "She knew, too."

Well _fuck_.

"And _you_?" I ask angrily. I can feel my temper flaring and wish to God I wasn't chained to this god damn headboard right now.

"Look, dude," Emmett roars. "_I_ wasn't the one who made the bet. _You _brought this shit upon yourself. So don't think for a second you can pawn any of this shit--" He waves his hand around, indicating my current situation, "--on me."

"So it didn't cross your mind for one second to tell me that you knew?" I yell.

"I told you to tell her about the bet!"

"How could you do that when you were too busy pretending like you didn't know shit!?"

"I hinted! I mean how god damn dense are you!?"

"So what does this mean?" I ask angrily. "You must have had a reason for not saying anything. I'm supposed to be your best fucking friend, Emmett. So spit it out."

"You didn't tell me anything about it. The whole honesty thing goes both fucking ways."

"It was none of your business."

"Yeah, well. Keep telling yourself that while you're wondering why Bella hates you now and what you need to do to make it better. Don't expect me to help you, because it's none of my fucking business."

I'm angry – pissed, livid, furious – but his comment still stings. And he's right. I don't deserve his help. But I do deserve everything that's happened.

I lie back against the door, my face hot as hell, and silently sulk. We don't speak again for the rest of the trip to his uncle's house.

---

We pull up to a small house with a side garage. The yard is cluttered with debris: a tire, two rims, a jack, some wood. The house itself is in dire need of a paint job and the shrubbery around the porch looks unkempt and abandoned. Weeds are taking over the uncut grass.

The front door stands wide open, but we don't make it that far. As soon as Emmett – who still has not spoken another word – slams the back door closed behind me, a deep voice booms from the garage and calls to us.

"Back here, guys!"

We silently make our way to the garage. A huge man – even larger than Emmett – stands to greet us, extending a dirty, greasy hand to Emmett. I can't shake for obvious reasons, and for one fleeting moment I'm actually thankful.

He smiles boisterously when he sees me, his resemblance to Emmett uncanny.

"Well, well," he says, highly amused. "Got you a firecracker of a woman, I see!"

I'm in no mood to joke, so I simply offer a forced smile in return.

"I'm Demetri," he goes on, unabashed by my sour mood. "Here, you can set that over here." He points to a large table housing an electric saw. "We'll get you out of these in no time."

"Thanks, Demetri," Emmett says, and if I didn't know him, I'd think all the strain from our argument was gone from his voice. But it's there in trace amounts, and his tight-lipped smile doesn't fool me for a second. "Try not to cut him up too bad."

He gives me one last icy look before slipping inside the house, leaving me alone with his uncle.

Demetri walks over to the saw and turns it on, flipping the power a few times so that it revs like a chainsaw. I believe he's doing this for comedic effect, but I fail to see the humor. In fact, I fear for my life a little bit, especially as the one person who usually likes me just left me alone with this madman, undeterred by whether I live or die.

"Don't pass out on me, now," Demetri says, probably noticing how I'm beginning to pale. "It's not that bad. I saw right into the thick part where the lock is and the whole thing pops off. It's simple, really. And I have a smaller saw, don't worry. I was just messing with you a little bit."

Just messing with me. Right.

"That's great," I say, my voice tight. "And thanks for doing this."

He whips out the small saw, which is still too big for my comfort. "Alright, now put your wrists down right here," he instructs. "And try not to move. I won't cut you, but if you suddenly start flailing around like a woman I may not be able to avoid it. Oh, and put these on."

He hands me a pair of goggles which I quickly slip on my nose. I hold my wrists against the headboard as instructed, closing my eyes and trying hard not to flinch as the saw grinds against the metal.

---

BPOV

I'm supposed to go to Rose's place when I'm done, but I decide against it. I head straight to my apartment – I can't really even remember how I got there – and lifelessly walk up the stairs.

Ursula is waiting for me when I walk in, all fat tubbiness and wads of stupid hair. She doesn't even care that my life is over. All she cares about is food. Food this, milk that, spaghetti noodles, spaghetti noodles, meow, meow, meow. It's _her_ fault this happened. If it wasn't for _her_, being all fat and disgusting and proud of herself for it, I'd still feel desperate and needy for a date tomorrow. And I'd still have Edward for another day.

_God damn cat._

She looks at me when I walk in, blinking her big, fat, innocent eyes. She's completely unaware of the impending feline massacre I'm secretly plotting.

"What do you _want_!?" I ask her angrily. She blinks callously, unhindered by my outburst.

"You're _happy_ all this happened, aren't you? Was this your plan all along? And what else have you managed to destroy while I was gone tonight, huh? _Huh_?"

She turns her back on me and trots away.

I walk to my bedroom, feeling...numb. I have no feeling, just a dank emptiness inside which is neither angry, happy, nor sad. There is nothing, and I both welcome and fear this.

I sit on my bed and think for a moment. Did I really just do what I think I did? I left Edward handcuffed to his bed? I left him victim to that ass, James, of all people?

_This is what you wanted. You wanted him to pay, and he has. Dearly._

But the end result is not nearly as satisfying as I'd hoped. I find myself glancing at the clock, wondering how much time is enough before I get to go back and check on him. Just because he spoke to James doesn't mean that dick will help him.

_Maybe I should go back now. I'll just drive by. No one will know._

_But what if he sees me? He'll know what I'm doing! _

_Good God, Bella. Would it kill you if he didn't think you were completely heartless?_

_He deserves it. He deserves it, he deserves it, he deserves it._

I bury my face in my hands, resisting the urge to scream.

I finally lie down, a victim to my thoughts, and stay this way until I hear my phone ring from the other room. I drag myself to it without enthusiasm, curious as to the caller but determined to ignore it either way.

But when I see that it's Emmett, my curiosity gets the best of me. I put the phone to my ear.

"Bella!" His voice is hushed and secretive. My interest is instantly piqued.

"What? What's going on?" I ask frantically. Did something happen to Edward? Did James murder him? Oh my gosh – is Emmett at the waiting room of the hospital??

"I didn't think you had it in you, you crafty little seductress." His voice is low but amused.

"What are you talking about?"

"I had to rescue your boyfriend."

"He is _not_ my boyfriend," I huff indignantly, but I'm instantly relieved that someone came for Edward.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. You two hate each other. Blah, blah, blah."

"Damn straight we do." But I'm lying – I don't hate him at all. But whether or not he hates me now is a completely different story.

"How did you know about it?" I wonder, though I have my suspicions.

"Rose told me."

_Rose! Gah!!_

"Is James there?" I'm determined to hang up right this second if he is. I can't even stand the thought of being on the other end of the phone line as him right now. I really _hate _him. I hate him and his twisted little games.

"No." He snorts. "I don't know why the hell not. I haven't had a chance to ask. We sort of went at it for a second."

"Where is he?"

"Oh, we're at my uncle's house getting the cuffs sawed off," he answers casually.

"_What_? Why? I left the key on the dresser!" I exclaim.

"Yeah, that broke."

"No way."

"Way."

"But those are real handcuffs!"

"Well the key was kind of shitty."

"How the hell did you get him off the bed?"

"I didn't, we had to bring the headboard with us."

"No way."

"Way."

I'm flabbergasted. _That_ was certainly not supposed to happen! In any other situation, it would almost be funny.

But this isn't any other situation. And it's definitely not funny.

"Well I have another key," I offer, my heartbeat speeding as the words leave my mouth. To take them the key would mean facing Edward and, well, I'm just not so sure I'm ready to do that. I need at least a day to recuperate from all of this.

"Too late," says Emmett. "He's already under the saw."

We both pause. I imagine that I can hear the saw in the background, but in reality I can't hear a thing. I wonder how badly Edward is cursing me right now, and the thought makes me grimace.

"He really likes you, you know," Emmett finally says. I'm surprised.

"I doubt that."

"Well, I don't know about _now," _he goes on. "To be honest, the saw seems to be traumatizing him a bit. But before he did. I'd be willing to bet my right arm on it."

_Gee, thanks_.

I groan in response. "Please, don't say anything else about bets," I say. "I've had enough to last me a lifetime."

He chuckles. "Yeah, well. That's why I called. I wanted to congratulate you on your sudden gonad growth-spurt and also tell you that."

"It's a little late for that now, Emmett," I say, and I'm simultaneously relieved and horrified to realize that feelings are returning, and not those of the good variety. I feel unbelievably morose.

"He's pissed at me, too," he offers. "I told him I knew about it. He wasn't too happy to hear that."

_As if he has a right to get mad at Emmett_, I think. Sure, Emmett knew. But he didn't make the bet, nor did he force Edward to do it. I'm actually quite taken with Emmett at the moment.

"Well thanks, Emmett," I say gratefully. We both pause, and I can hear Ursula clawing at my bedroom door, trying to get inside my room. I can plainly hear the carpet rip as it shreds beneath her claws. "Any chance you're gonna come get this fucking cat?" I ask seriously, all gratitude gone.

"If she's acting out it's only because you're constantly being offensive," he protests.

"Emmett!"

"I can't right now, okay? I'll call you later and we can talk about it."

"Seriously, Emmett. You owe me a new couch."

"Look, Edward's coming back. Gotta go. Bye."

He abruptly hangs up on me before I can say anything else. I picture Edward walking into the house, pissed and running off at the mouth about me. And why wouldn't he? I was no better than he was tonight, in all actuality. He made the bet, but I could have been the bigger person and talked to him like an adult. But I wanted to have fun, and I wanted revenge.

But where is my sweet victory? Where is the satisfaction?

I stand up and shoo Ursula from my door before fixing her some food. Thankfully, she leaves me alone once she's fed. I try to watch TV, but I can't focus on anything on the screen. The feelings are returning and they're more brutal than ever.

I finally do what any person in my situation would do in times of distress.

I call my mother.

"Hey Bella," she says upon answering. "I was just thinking about you. Is everything okay?" She sounds worried, and I attribute this to her weirdly accurate mother's instinct. She can always sense when things are not well with me even when she's hundreds of miles away.

I wonder how much I should reveal to her. We've always been open with each other, but is it okay to tell your mother you seduced a guy until he was half naked and left him cuffed to a bed?

She may disapprove, but she won't judge me for it. She'll hear me out and still accept me at the end of it all.

"No, Mom," I say. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I tell her anyway. "I did something kind of bad. Really bad, I think."

Why do I feel so shitty about all of this? He deserved it. Right?

"What happened, honey?" she asks, genuinely concerned, and I'm suddenly pouring my heart out to her, telling her every last thing that's happened ever since the night James and I called it quits. I cry between my words, and I'm ashamed for all parties involved.

She listens patiently. "So you did all this to mess with him but ended up liking him?" she asks when I'm done.

I sniffle and uselessly wipe at my tears with my hand. "Yes."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"For what, Mom?" I ask, exasperated. "I'm just a stupid bet to him."

"But you said he stopped you tonight," she says. "When you were pushing him to go further." I don't even think to be amazed at the conversation we're having, because it's always been this way between us. She's always seemed more like a protective friend than a mother.

"Yeah, he did," I admit. I'm unsettled by the realization. "You think that means something?" I wonder.

"It could, honey. The only way to know for sure is to talk to him."

"He hates me now."

"You don't know that."

"Why wouldn't he? I tried to rat him out. I maybe did, I dunno. James didn't come for him, though."

"You both did bad things, Bella. Neither one of you behaved very admirably in this situation. But if you really like each other you should try to learn from your mistakes and maybe start over."

"I don't think we're ready for that, Mom," I say hopelessly. "I don't think it's meant to be. The whole thing is stupid. It's just a little crush; I'm sure I'll get over it soon," I say, but it feels like so much more than that. A simple crush shouldn't hurt so much.

"Well if you're sure, Bella," she relents. "Just know that I'm always here for you no matter what you decide."

Surely, that's supposed to make me feel better. Surely, I should be comforted by the fact that my mother, who is several hundred miles away, will be here for me via telephone after I die on the inside. Yes, surely.

"That's great, Mom. Thank you."

I don't feel comforted by our conversation. But where the comfort was lacking, I found truth in her words.

We were both wrong. As a result, we were both hurt. And perhaps we can learn from this charade and take this new knowledge with us, because that's all we managed to gain.

_When you play with fire, you will get burned_.

I forgot to shut my door, so Ursula curls up beside me on the bed and purrs. And as much as I pretend to loathe her, I take comfort in her presence at the moment and eventually fall asleep, ignoring my phone as it rings again and again on the bedside table.

* * *

A/N: So the consensus is clear: you guys want to know what the flippin' bet is out. Trust me, so do I. Wait...whoops, am I supposed to already know??? Uh oh...

Thanks as always to ms_ambrosia and passionmama. Love ya ladies.

You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for teasers and updates.

I'm aiming to update next Thursday again but, again, no promises. School makes things unpredictable right now. I'll do my best. Oh, and once again, I can't send outtakes to anynomous reviewers. If you didn't get your Emmett POV outtake that's probably why. Just PM me and I'll send it along.

As always, I love hearing what you think :-)

See you next week.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: All things Twilighted belong to Stephenie Meyer**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 25

**EPOV**

"_Hey, you've reached Bella..._"

_Fuck_.

I end the call and slam my phone down on the coffee table, wondering what the fuck I'm doing. I've already left her two messages. How many until it's desperate? Do I want to seem desperate? Is being desperate a good thing in this type of situation?

I don't expect her to answer her phone, but that doesn't stop me from trying. I just want her to hear me out for five minutes, even if I don't deserve it. Because I'm a selfish fuck that way.

I call her again.

_Please pick up. Please pick up..._

"_Hey, you've reached Bella..._"

"Fuck." I say the word aloud this time and helplessly listen to the rest of her message. Then I begin my desperate plea for redemption, though I know it's probably useless.

"Bella, I know you're pissed. And I don't blame you. But _please _hear me out for five minutes. If you still hate me after that, I'll leave you alone. I promise. This is all just so fucked up and....God, Bella. I really do care about you. And I'm not saying that because of the bet. I never meant to care for you, but I do. And I know that sounds fucked up, too, but God...I just want to make things right."

I pause and sigh heavily, trying to gather my next thoughts. Then her voicemail cuts me off; I curse again and toss the phone aside, scrubbing my face with my hands. But the tension lingers there, taunting and persistent.

True to his word, Emmett didn't offer any advice on the ride home. I guess that was to be expected, considering I basically shunned all of his previous advice. And we still weren't on great speaking terms.

The silence was broken only briefly, and by one simple statement from me.

"I told her I'd take her to her friend's wedding tomorrow."

Emmett snorted obnoxiously from the driver's seat. "Somehow, I think leaving you chained to the headboard kind of made that promise null and void."

He was right, of course. I'm not even sure why I said it out loud. She obviously isn't going to want to get cozy with me at her friend's wedding tomorrow. Not now.

I thought of throwing the headboard away, but Demetri insisted it was salvageable. "The wood is splintered a bit here, but you can easily drill a little higher when you put the bolts back in and it'll be good as new," he explained.

The headboard is currently propped against the wall of the house outside. My mattress and box spring remained propped against the wall upstairs. And my body is propped against the back of the couch, defeated and unwilling to move. I couldn't care less if the headboard is ever repaired. I honestly don't think I'll ever look at one the same way again.

I tap my fingers on the armrest, considering calling Bella again, but I eventually decide against it. It's late; Bella is either asleep or ignoring me.

I want to go to her apartment – to pound on her door and refuse to leave until she listens – but I don't think it's the best course of action. Not to mention it would probably land me a set of real handcuffs before the night's end.

Eventually, I climb into my car and begin to cruise. I have no destination in mind, but the thought of sitting on my couch and doing nothing is torturous. It's late, but I can't sleep. And I need to move before I go crazy. I need to keep my mind occupied, even if it's on something as mundane as driving.

I drive for nearly two hours, passing Bella's apartment twice. Is this stalking? I think it probably is, but at least I'm not watching her through her window with a pair of binoculars or something _really _creepy. Each time I pass her place I try to convince myself it's accidental - just a coincidence - but I know it's not the truth. I know I'm really _that_ pathetic.

And I will never doubt this fact again, not now or ever, as I sidle up to Bella's car and write a hasty note on the back of a McDonald's receipt. I tack it carefully beneath her windshield wiper, the sloppy script facing out.

The words are simple. They're direct. And although I don't leave a signature, I can guarantee she'll know who it's from.

_I'm sorry._

I want to do a lot of things to portray my sorrow. I want to write her a mournful poem or buy her flowers or...something. But none of those things are good enough. Bella can't be bought off with flowers. Not when she's been wronged the way she has.

The only solution is for her to listen and possibly understand. And if she doesn't understand, well...I can only hope for the best. I don't think I'm ready to face the what-ifs and repercussions of my bad decisions right now. Not after today.

I run a nervous hand through my hair as I drive away. I wonder if it's too much and I wonder if it's not enough. I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm lost and desperate to find a way.

She deserves more than a greasy old receipt tacked against her window. She deserves to have the message written in the sky, in the heavens. She deserves the world, and even that wouldn't be enough.

The more I think about it, the more the note seems..._insulting_.

I'm nearly at my house when I angrily decide to turn around. I tear down the road, to her parking lot, and rip the note from the window. I ball it in my fist and toss it to the ground.

If that's really the best I can do, I don't even deserve the chance to try.

-o-o-o-

**BPOV**

As much as I don't feel like leaving the house – as much as I want to pity myself and succumb to some sort of sorrowful hibernation for the next ten years – I'm still unbelievably happy for today. Because today, my best friend is getting married to his soul mate. And there is nothing that can dampen that sort of joy for someone you love.

I try really hard not to think of Edward when I wake, but it's a task made more difficult when I see I have four missed calls from him. I also have two voicemails.

My chest tightens, but I don't listen to the messages. _Maybe later_. I won't risk getting upset and making things any less enjoyable for Jake and Leah, because today is their day, not mine.

I play loud, happy music while I'm getting ready for the wedding. A little Jimmy Buffett always does the trick; nothing lifts my spirits higher than the thought of a little Cheeseburger in Paradise.

Rose arrives around four o'clock with Emmett. He's dressed sharply in a button-down shirt and slacks while Rose wears a matching green dress that hugs her every curve. They both smile kindly at me when I open the door and I hastily invite them inside.

"I could have driven myself, you know," I tell them. I'm not aiming to be rude, but I certainly don't want their pity over my situation with Edward.

"Of course you could have," Rose says dismissively. "But I wanted us to go together. It's what friends do."

"Yeah, Bella. So get your ass in gear before we're late," Emmett adds. Ursula runs up to him as if anxious to see her daddy; he quickly scoops down to pick her up, cooing into her ear.

"Emmett!" Rose scolds. "You put that thing down right now. You're going to have cat hair all over you!"

Emmett looks offended. "It'll come off with that lint roller you _insisted _we bring." He rolls his eyes. "And that _thing_ has a name. God, you women are so crass."

"The lint roller only has about three sheets left. That cat is the size of a mammoth!"

"Would you talk about your daughter this way if she was overweight?" he asks indignantly.

"I wouldn't feed my daughter twenty times a day."

"She might have a thyroid problem for all you know."

"They make medications for that. And that's all the more reason to eat healthy."

"Ursula does eat healthy! Mike buys her Innova. It's organic and shit."

"And he mixes it with whole milk."

"So?"

Rose palms her forehead in exasperation. "So whole milk is fatty, Emmett. Jesus."

I slip back into my bedroom, quietly abandoning the argumentative couple. They don't even notice me leave. I can still hear their voices drifting through the closed door, the words muffled but irritated.

After a few minutes, Rose joins me. "Hey," she says cautiously.

I'm in my bathroom finishing up my makeup. "Hey," I echo. I don't turn around as she enters, but even through my peripheral I can tell she's feeling awkward.

"How much more do you have to do?" she wonders.

"I'm almost done." I keep my sentences short and to the point. I should want to talk, to take my mind off of things, but I can't find the energy for it. And I know exactly what's on Rose's mind.

"You never came over last night," she says. She leans in the doorway of my bathroom, watching me, and I try my best to ignore her accusing stare.

"I know."

"Are you okay?"

"Mm hmm." I nod just as I finish applying mascara.

"Are you sure?"

This sets me off, and suddenly I'm full of irritation and short of patience. "Yes, Rose. God. I said I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

She stands stoically in the doorway, not batting an eyelash at my sudden outburst. "Alright, Bella." Her voice is calm.

"And what's with you, anyway?" I ask angrily. I don't want to get upset, but emotions are suddenly bubbling to the surface. And anger is so much better than this emptiness I've been feeling.

She narrows her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you running your mouth off to Emmett. _Again_."

Her face contorts to that of surprise. Finally, _finally, _she seems bothered by my words. And I'm glad.

"It was an accident," she mumbles. "He just kept going on and on and – well, I let it slip about the text. And he hounded me until I told him, Bella. I didn't mean to, I swear! But he knew something was going on."

"He wouldn't know unless you gave him reason to believe that," I say indignantly. I'm not sure why I'm so mad all of a sudden – I don't really even care that Emmett knows. Truthfully, I'm just glad that someone was there to help Edward, because I don't know for sure that James would have. And nothing would have ruined my facade more than walking back in there to let him out myself.

But it feels good to take out my frustrations on someone, even if that person doesn't really deserve it. Rose has always had a mouth the size of New Hampshire. She's never been able to keep a secret. Why would I expect things to be different now?

"I'm sorry, Bella." She looks genuinely distressed, and I begin to feel a little guilty for making her feel this way. My reasoning is selfish.

"It's fine, Rose," I say, relaxing a bit. I even force a small smile. "It's not your fault. This whole thing was my idea."

My thoughts fly to Edward again, and I feel the same tightening in my throat – the same pressure in my chest – and I want to wallow in my bed and cry. Rose sees this and silently wraps her arms around my body, giving me a gentle hug.

She may have gotten in the way more often than not, but she did everything with my best interest at heart. I can't bear staying mad at her.

"Are you and Emmett okay?" I ask, wanting to take the focus off of me and the reasons why I'm upset. She stiffens around me.

"We are now. He was kind of pissed at first."

I frown, confused. Was he that upset about her calling Ursula fat?

"Why?" I wonder.

"He was convinced Edward was going to talk to you. He thought he'd finally gotten through to him or something. How was _I_ supposed to know that?" She's indignant in her response, her usual self-righteousness returning.

I pull away from her, feeling nauseated. "What are you talking about?"

She frowns and regards me carefully. "When I told him about our plan," she says slowly. She clearly thinks this should be obvious, but that thought hadn't crossed my mind at all. "What did you think I was talking about?"

My face flushes as I look away and scramble for an excuse. I just can't think about this anymore.

So what if Edward was going to talk to me? Does that mean he's automatically forgiven? No. Does that mean I would've forgiven him had the talk occurred? No. Does he still deserve everything that happened?

I think about the last question for a moment, but the answer remains the same.

Yes, he deserved it. Would I do it all over again if given the chance? Perhaps not, now that I see there's no satisfaction to be gained from it. But I didn't know that at the time. I thought I'd walk away feeling victorious and powerful, not guilty, depressed, and empty.

I slide past Rose and out of the bathroom. I still haven't cried, and I'm thankful for that one small feat.

"I think I'm ready," I say hastily, completely ignoring Rose's question. She notices but, thankfully, doesn't push.

"Alright. Let me just go lint-roll Emmett and we'll be ready too."

I follow Rose into the living room. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts, which will only give me more time to dwell, and yet I also don't want to be in the scrutiny of their judgmental eyes. But I have to do something, and at least this way maybe we can talk about something - or _someone_ – besides Edward.

Emmett is sitting on the couch, trailing a ribbon across the floor for Ursula to chase. Watching her move is nearly like watching a slow-motion movie. Her pudgy stomach oscillates from side to side like a swing, and I half expect a peal of thunder to erupt every time her chubby paws hit the floor.

Rose digs in her purse for her lint-roller. "Come on, Emmett. It's time to go." She stands in front of him and eyes his shirt. "It's going to take half a freakin' hour to lint-roll you!"

Emmett sighs woefully. Then, spotting me, he slaps the armrest of the couch where the shredded fabric loosely hangs.

"Yeah, Bella. I got your couch. Or I should say _Mike's_ got your couch." He waggles his eyebrows at me. "He said just to let him know if something like this happens."

Rose huffs. "Why the fuck wouldn't he get it declawed?"

"Maybe because he doesn't want to _torture_ her," Emmett rudely replies. Just as Rose opens her mouth to argue, I'm assaulted with the smelliest wave of air in existence. The force of the stench nearly knocks me off my feet; Rose clamps her mouth shut and screws her face up comically.

"What the _fuck_ is that?" she bellows. Even Emmett is waving a hand in front of his face, trying to disperse the smell.

"Good God," I say, clamping a hand over my mouth and nose. It's not worth it to breathe. All thoughts of _everything _go flying out the window as I struggle to find fresh air.

"Her stomach must be upset," says Emmett, but, nonetheless, he shoves Ursula away and scrambles away from the tainted area. We all follow suit.

"God, that thing is disgusting," Rose grumbles. I interrupt just as Emmett opens his mouth to argue.

"Alright, guys. I'm ready. We should get going if we want to get there a little early." I debate leaving a window open so that the apartment can air out, but eventually decide against it.

Rose quickly lint-rolls Emmett, much to his chagrin, and together we walk downstairs and pile into his SUV. I've been wearing my new heels all of ten minutes and my feet already hurt. And we've been in the car all of two minutes before Rose spots more cat hair on Emmett's sleeve and begins bitching because she's out of lint sheets.

I sigh and rub my eyes, careful not smudge the makeup I'd just applied. This is looking to be a long day.

We arrive early to help Leah's family with any last-minute preparations. The wedding is taking place in a large park which was reserved for the occasion. A large gazebo, decorated with throngs of silver and black ribbon, sits gallantly in front of a display of chairs draped with ribbons in a similar fashion. The chairs are arranged into two parts, and in the middle is a walkway sprinkled with red rose petals. The backdrop of the gazebo gives way to a breathtaking view of the open park and, several miles away, the marina.

Despite the modest location, everything is beautiful. I'm in awe when I see it. Even Rose takes a moment to admire it all while Emmett whistles appreciatively.

"Damn, babe. This looks pretty sharp," he says, and Rose beams in admiration of her friends. I can feel my spirits lifting as my worries are momentarily forgotten; I'm more than happy to greet Leah's mother, Sue, when she approaches us. Sue is practically glowing in pride as she smiles warmly.

"So good to see you, girls! And who is this handsome young man?" She floats towards Emmett as Rose makes the introductions.

"Everything is nearly done," she says once they've been acquainted. "But Bella, Leah's friend Andrew is just setting up. He's bartending for the reception tonight." She points towards an open, roofed establishment that is several yards away, usually used for entertainment. "I'm sure he could use some help." She winks and shoos me away, in his direction, and I'm slightly appalled that she's trying to set me up with this random guy on a whim. I'm not interested, thank you. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever be ready to do the mating-call dance with a male again.

But Rose seems to agree, and as soon as Sue is out of hearing range, she says, "He looks kind of cute." Her voice is innocent, prompting but casual. And I'm not fooled for a second.

"Not interested, thank you."

She holds up both hands in surrender. "I was just saying I think he's cute. I can think a guy looks cute if I want."

"Then maybe _you_ should go help him," I say snidely.

"Hey!" Emmett looks offended.

"Sorry, Emmett."

Rose sighs loudly. "Come on, then. Let's go find us a seat." She tugs Emmett's arm and leads him away.

"Aren't they all assigned?" he wonders, but they are too far away for me to hear her answer.

I linger by myself for a moment, unsure of what I want to do. I stare down at my feet, where the grass blades are tickling the skin beneath the straps of my shoes, and a moment of nostalgia comes over me as I steady myself in the gentle breeze. A part of my mind thinks it's lucky it's not raining today while a greater portion wishes I wasn't standing here alone, but with certain company. And not because I want to impress those who don't really matter, but because I enjoy his presence far more than I should. And I miss him already.

Someone approaches me. I see his shiny Nordstrom shoes before raising my eyes to meet his.

"Hey there," he says, smiling broadly. My breath catches in surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was invited."

"Invited? By who, Jacob?"

"Yes. We got in touch the other day. A last minute invite, but hell, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Oh." I lower my eyes again, feeling uncertain and a little awkward beneath his gaze. I suddenly don't know what to do with my arms, so I cross them in front of me.

"Are you here with that, um...your friend?" he asks, his voice low. It's as if he thinks my_ friend_ is nearby and may overhear, but I quickly squash the idea.

"No, he couldn't make it." I leave it at that, figuring it's none of his business.

"Oh. Well, where are you sitting?" he asks, gathering hope from my words. I frown at him, truly muddled by his persistence.

"I'd really rather not sit together, Tyler," I say. I keep my voice steady and even, hoping to convey my certainty in this decision.

He looks confused. "How come?"

"I'm not sure what Rose told you the other day, but I'm not looking for a relationship. I think I need to just need to think about myself for a little while." I don't bother bringing up the past – how he left me before – because it's old news and I'd rather not go there. I don't have to lay out all the reasons why I don't want to be with him anymore. I just don't.

"I never said anything about a relationship," he says quickly. He's offended, but I don't care. An encounter with him is the last thing I wanted today.

"Then what are you getting at?"

"Can't I just talk to you? What, we can't be friends now?"

I study him a moment. Can we be friends, after everything that's happened? Is that really what he wants? And is that something that _I _want?

Maybe one day, but it's simply not something I desire at the moment.

"Not right now," I say plainly. I don't worry about sparing his feelings – I feel as though mine have been stomped and trampled, and repairing them has left no energy for taking care of others. He's a big boy. He can deal with it.

But at his wounded expression I quickly add, "Maybe one day."

"Whatever you say, Bella," he says, unconvinced. He looks irritated. "I just hope that Edmund guy treats you well."

I gape at him. Edmund? _Edmund_? Who the hell is named _Edmund_ anymore? He obviously got the name wrong on purpose...and I want to smack him for it. Not to mention he is unknowingly throwing the unpleasant memories from last night right in my face.

I straighten, standing at my full height and then some with my three inch heels – though I'm still nearly a head shorter than he – and look him squarely in the eyes. I see a prime opportunity to lash out at him, to say something nasty - to perhaps throw our past in his face and make him feel guilty. I see an opportunity to bring him down with me as far as our wrongdoings are concerned.

But will that give me the satisfaction I seek? Or should I be the bigger person, just this once, and let it go?

He stares at me, his eyes challenging. He knows what he's just done and he's waiting for me to react.

But I won't do it. There's nothing to gain from making another person feel shitty, except that it makes me feel a little shitty as well. It's just wrong; I see that now.

"His name is Edward, Tyler," I say calmly. I'm surprised at how even and kind my voice sounds. "And thank you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Tyler's jaw tenses and slackens. He clearly was not expecting such a comment, but his surprise is well-contained as I brush past him to find Rose and Emmett. I feel his eyes boring into my back but, thankfully, he does not follow.

Rose and Emmett are sitting side-by-side, holding hands and talking quietly. They're not arguing, for once, and the way they lean towards each other while conversing in hushed voices is kind of...sweet.

I clear my throat to alert them to my presence and take a seat. They both pull back and smile at me. People are slowly filling in the seats around us.

"You okay, Bella?" Rose asks. "I saw you talking to Tyler--"

"I'm fine," I say quickly, cutting her off. I give her a tight smile, but in all honesty I really am fine. It actually felt _good _do something that was good for me – something that was honest and mature and left us both feeling like good people when it was over.

"Okay," she says, smiling gratefully. She believes me.

A few more people make their way over to us, and we entertain ourselves with idle chatter as the time for the wedding draws near. My father takes a seat next to me just minutes before the ceremony begins, his usually composed demeanor frazzled and rushed.

"I didn't think I was going to make it in time," he whispers hurriedly. "I left over four hours ago! I was worried I'd have to stand in the back. Thank you for saving me a seat."

Charlie's left knee is bad, an ailment worsened by the constant rain, and standing on it for an extended amount of time would have been torturous. I give him a reassuring smile.

"Of course."

The wedding is beautiful. Jacob, my good friend and constant confidant, stands at the altar in a handsome tuxedo with a red vest. He's nervous, I can tell, but he maintains his composure as he scans the crowd, anxiously awaiting his bride. His best man, Paul, whispers something in his ear and Jacob ducks his head, smiling shyly.

Leah is stunning in her slim, beige dress with a sleek, red bow tied on the side. Her hair is curled, pushed back on her forehead with clips of white flowers, and the tendrils spiral loosely around her shoulders. Her flawless skin is flushed with the slightest tint of pink as she smiles adoringly at her soon-to-be husband.

I can't help it. I get honest to goodness tears in my eyes as I watch Jacob reciting his vows, promising to honor and love his wife forever and always. I don't usually cry at weddings – not even that time I was elbowed in the nose over the bouquet – but seeing Jacob so happy just does something to me, and within minutes I'm sniffing up a storm and trying to stem the snot flow with nothing but my wet hands and a half a tissue that Rose offered to share.

After Jacob kisses his bride, everyone stands to applaud. They take a lot of pictures – nearly one-hundred thousand or so, it seems – and in the meantime we make our way over to the reception area. There's an open bar and hors d'oeuvres set among two giant wedding cakes. To the left is a stage where the band is setting up. The sun is setting and each table, set several yards away from the dance floor and reception building in general, is lit by a candle and adorned with a tiny vase and single red rose.

Jacob and Leah make their way over to cut the cake. They share their first dance, then Leah dances with her younger brother Seth in lieu of her father, who died several years prior.

Paul and Embry make their way over to me and we engage in small talk, our conversation constantly dancing back to Jacob and how we never imagined he'd be the first to be married as we dig up old memories and stories from our past. They always teased me mercilessly, but tonight there seems to be an unspoken truce. Our attention is on the happy couple – this is their night – and I'm ashamed that I had thought it would be any other way.

We stay late, wishing our friends a good time as they leave to begin their honeymoon. We offer to help clean up but Sue immediately shoos us away.

"I've already paid someone to help do this, Bella," she says dismissively. "You kids go have fun."

But when I try to walk away she suddenly grabs me by the arm. "Hey, did you get a chance to talk to Andrew?" she asks, her eyes flicking suggestively to the bar. Andrew is there cleaning, oblivious to our conversation.

I had mumbled a few words to Andrew while receiving my drinks, but that was all. He was cute. He seemed nice, even. But I couldn't take my mind off of one man long enough to really appreciate another.

"We spoke a little," I say truthfully. "But I'm not really interested right now."

"That's a shame," she says, shaking her head. "Both of you are such a catch. And both single, too! Such a shame."

"Right. Well, maybe one day," I say, attempting to soothe her sudden bout of disappointment. She nods eagerly, smiles sympathetically, and grants me one final goodbye before we part ways.

I'm not offended by her behavior – if anything, I'm indifferent. It's not just about being single or in a relationship, but about being with someone you really care for. Because otherwise, it's all a waste of time. There's no point.

Once Emmett and Rose drop me off at my place, I head to my car to retrieve my iPod. I'm exhausted and my feet are numb – I also have a massive food baby from all the food and alcohol I consumed – but I'm generally satisfied with today's events. I'm satisfied with myself.

I grab my iPod and head up the stairs. I feel something on my shoe and look down, quickly realizing that my skinny heel has speared a piece of paper. I snatch it off and absentmindedly unravel the wadded sheet.

The note holds two words, the letters scrawled and sloppy. The handwriting is both familiar and strange, and it takes a moment before recognition dawns.

My breath hitches, because I know he was here. I quickly look around, a part of me eager to find him waiting, that same part of me disappointed to discover that I'm alone.

But it's better that he isn't here. We need talk, eventually, but I also need time to digest everything. I need to think and consider and know exactly how I feel when I face him again.

Because the next time I face him, I vow to be completely honest. About everything.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks as always to ms_ambrosia and passionmama for everything they do for this story. And thanks to everyone for all their lovely reviews.**

**I won't be able to update again until probably Thursday, May 13. I'm going to be busy next week with RL stuff and probably won't have time to write. If I can get it out earlier, I will.**

**You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for updates and teasers.**

**To any new readers who haven't gotten the Emmett POV outtake, just say you want it in your review or send me a PM and I'll send it along. And please make sure you log in, as I can't respond to anonymous reviewers. The EPOV is still located on the thread - link is on my profile.**

**See you next time!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 26

BPOV

The following week, I submerse myself in my work. Avoidance has become the new strategy – I avoid Edward's calls, I avoid Rose's persistence to go out, and I avoid the _talk_ Emmett seems intent on having with me. The only thing I don't avoid is work, as it's the only thing that seems to take my mind off my current issues.

Edward calls several times a day. He even comes by a few times, but I'm either not at home or I ignore the knocking. Even when he's not around his presence surrounds me due to the constant barrage of flowers and stuffed animals and "I'm sorry" and "Please let's talk" notes that he sends to me. My apartment soon looks like its very own florist shop, the overwhelming smell and sight of flowers never letting me forget what's happened. I kind of hate Edward for not giving me the space I want, but how could he know this if I'm not speaking to him? Besides the fact that I chained him up and basically told him to go to hell, of course.

On Monday, while I'm at work, he covers my car with flowers. My coworkers think I have quite the romantic boyfriend, and I don't have the heart or the energy to correct them. The petals look like snow as they fly off my car upon driving away.

Emmett picks up Ursula that same day. I leave the key so that he can come while I'm working and I won't have to deal with him – thereby avoiding the _talk_ – but later I feel bad that I didn't get to say goodbye to the beast. As smelly and disgusting as she is, I'm actually going to miss her a little. She was the only one in this entire fucked up charade that didn't have twisted motives, and I value her simplicity.

With her gone, my apartment feels empty. It no longer reeks of dander and poo, and when I lint roll the furniture, the fur doesn't miraculously return half an hour later. But it's quiet – I can no longer hear her yowling around the place or the gurgling rolls of her digestive system as she inhales an entire bowl of food. And in the absence of sound comes loneliness.

I don't sleep well at night. I lie awake for hours thinking about Edward – I wonder what he's doing, I obsess over whether he's with another woman, and I reread his texts and consider returning his calls. But I do nothing to ease these thoughts, constantly assuring myself that I need more time to think over and consider everything that's happened.

I miss Edward – painfully so – but I don't want this yearning, this _desire_ for his presence, to affect my decisions when it comes to what's best for me. I want to be in a healthy, clear state of mind.

But I want Edward. I want to hear valid excuses and a sincere apology and I want to forgive him. But is that really wise? Could we ever be anything...more? After all that's happened?

I feel like a zombie at work. I'm unrested and tired, my thoughts threatening to stray every time I allow any sort of weakness to slip through my facade. But I'm dedicated, accomplishing more in these short few days than I would normally complete in a month.

I reacquaint myself with my love of writing during my evenings at home. I lose myself in a fantasy world - one where I dictate the outcomes, the actions, and the consequences of my character's decisions. It's the only safe escape from reality I can find.

This becomes sort of a routine. I half expect Edward to be at my apartment when I get off work, perhaps to grovel or offer an apology in person. Or maybe that's just what I'm hoping will happen, as he's suggested coming by several times in his messages. But I must have scared him away with the handcuffs. Everyday, my doorstep is empty.

Then on Wednesday evening, everything changes.

I get off work a little late, as is the norm this week, and head to my car with my head lowered as I try to manage a stack of papers that are slipping from my grip. I've decided to take some work home with me tonight. But looking up, I find a tall figure leaning against my car and my breath catches.

The flow of adrenaline is almost instantaneous as my heart rate and breathing quickens. I can practically hear the erratic pounding against my chest; my feet become heavy as lead.

He catches my eye as I approach and offers a sadistic grin. My stomach churns at the sight, bile creeping to my throat.

He pushes against my car and stands to face me. I stop several feet away, carefully assessing the situation. He wants something from me – why else would he be here? - and my mind races with the unpleasant possibilities.

I straighten to my full height, refusing to back down to him. Refusing to expose any weakness.

"What are you doing here, James?" I ask. My voice cracks slightly on his name, and I'm furious that my body has traitorously given away my anxiety at his presence.

He grins, and I'm repulsed by the sight. "What? We can't be friends now?"

_Over my dead fucking body_.

"What do you want, _James_?" I repeat. My voice is steady and even this time.

"I just wanted to see how my favorite Swan is doing," he says easily.

I roll my eyes as a million ways to incapacitate him enter my mind. I could kick him in the shins or the nads. I could pull his girly hair or claw his eyes out. I could even go for the weak pinky finger.

"Never been better," I lie, pushing past him to open my car door. He wouldn't really do anything to me...right? But his height and size, once found attractive, are unnerving at the moment. I just want to get in my car and drive away.

He doesn't give me space to move around him, but he doesn't touch me either.

"Is that right?" He smirks, causing my entire arm to twitch. I want nothing more than to smack the repulsive grin right off his face. "I hear you're dating Cullen now," he goes on.

I pause as realization dawns. _He thinks Edward and I are still together_. Is he trying to figure out who's won the bet?

I'm slightly peeved that Edward wouldn't just admit that he lost. But I'm relieved that James didn't win. As much as I want neither one to win – as much as I want for the bet to have never taken place to begin with – I'd much rather take James down a peg or two.

I turn around to face him, reigning in all of my confidence. "Yeah, so?" I say snidely.

His grinning bottom lip twitches and he licks it slowly. "So how is that going?"

"Great," I say. "We're very happy together."

"Uh huh," he says thoughtfully. He rubs his chin with his fingers. "I saw you leaving his house the other morning."

I frown. I have no clue what he's getting at. It obviously wasn't _me _leaving Edward's house. Did he see another woman? The thought makes me nauseous.

But perhaps he's just trying to gauge my reaction to this accusation. Me leaving his house in the morning would sort of imply that I've slept with him, after all.

I cock an eyebrow at him. "Are you stalking me now?" I ask. "Edward and I love each other. What we do is none of your business." I almost can't believe the words spewing from my mouth. _Almost_.

James' jaw slackens in shock, his mouth agape. "Are you shitting me?" His tone is accusatory.

I quickly look around to see if anyone else is near. There are two coworkers several yards away, out of hearing range – but most certainly not out of screaming range - and their presence gives me comfort.

I try to think of what to say, but before I can formulate a response James spits, "You think he loves you? Cullen doesn't love you. You're a bet to him, Bella. I bet he couldn't fuck you and he was determined to prove me wrong. But luckily for him, you're a naïve little slut after all."

I want to be the bigger person – to practice what I learned with Tyler and walk away – but my body reacts before my mind has even finished processing his statement. I hear a loud thwack, followed by a blinding pain through my still-healing hand and wrist, and suddenly James is stumbling backwards while clutching his face.

I'm seeing red. Literally. Blood is spilling from his fingers, all onto the front of his lame flannel shirt that is _so _last decade, and he's cursing up a storm and spewing red droplets with every muffled breath. I flinch and take a step back to avoid the spray, my eyes wide in horror at what I've just done.

I've never punched anyone before. _Ever_. And I'm pretty sure my hand is broken, because the pain is a thousand times worse than when it had its little tete-a-tete with the concrete two weeks ago.

"You fucking bitch!" James roars. Blood sprays everywhere, even on me, and I make a desperate lunge for the handle of my car door so that I can escape his growing wrath.

He grabs for me, actually landing a pretty painful grip on my forearm, but I miraculously snatch myself away from him and throw myself into the car. I lock all the doors and slam the car into the reverse, speeding out of the lot like hell is chasing after me. Which it kind of is.

I narrowly miss running over James' toes – not that I didn't try – and I see him yelling and cursing in my rear view mirror as I speed out of sight. My heart is racing a thousand miles a minute as he's lost from view.

There's something wet on my arm, so when I feel I'm safe, I look down to see a giant smear of blood. It's partially dry and completely disgusting. I want to pull over and vomit, or at least try, but there's no way in hell I'm stopping before I put at least twenty miles between me and the creep.

With a shaking, purple hand, I try to fish my cell phone from my purse. The pain is excruciating and my entire hand is swollen, but I eventually manage it. I have Rose's number on speed dial.

"Hey Bella," she greets.

"Rose." My voice is shaking, and I realize this little fiasco has affected me more that I thought it did. "I think I broke my hand. I'm going to the hospital. Can I stay with you tonight?"

"You what? How the hell did you break your hand?" she asks, confused.

"I saw James."

"Oh my fucking hell, _what did he do_!" She's enraged, and rightfully so, but I still flinch at her harsh tone.

"It's not a big deal," I lie. "He just...said some things. And I hit him."

"Really?" Her voice is dramatically lighter. I can tell she's pleased I wasn't mauled or something, not to mention she's probably estatic that I've finally stood up for myself.

"Yes."

"Well thank God. I mean if he attacked you...I would...fuck, I'll meet you at the hospital in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Rose."

"Of course. And don't go anywhere."

She hangs up on me, per usual, and I can't help but sigh in relief.

-o-o-o-o-

I spend nearly three hours in the emergency room. They x-ray my hand before revealing that it _is _broken, plus probably sprained again, and they insist that it be placed in a cast. I argue with them for about fifteen minutes – as long as I can rightfully last before they toss me out of the place. I hate casts and insist I'll wear the brace for the whole time that it's recommended, but when the nurse hears me whisper to Rose that I'll only take it off to scratch, the idea is squashed.

I want to kill eavesdropping nurses.

Rose holds my hand when the nurse starts the IV for my usual dose of pain medication. It's not quite the same as losing myself in the sweet scent of Edward's chest, but it's all I have.

After my whole run-in with James – and after being exposed to fucking hospitals and needles _again_ – I'm finding that the ache in my chest is throbbing and painful, and I miss Edward more than I ever have before.

I begin crying after I receive a dose of Morphine. Fat, silent tears roll down my face and I make a feeble attempt to wipe them away.

"What's wrong, Bella?" Rose asks, alarmed.

"Oh, the pain medicine will sometimes make people a little emotional," the nurse assures, and Rose nods her head in understanding. I don't bother correcting them.

Rose receives a phone call and takes it in the waiting area. I'm not sure how long she's gone. I don't even hear her return.

After a few moments, I begin to nod. The pain in my hand is still there – a faint throb that barely registers in the background of my mind – but it and the emotional pain are masked by the Morphine. Rose begins rubbing my head with her crazy long fingernails and the feeling is soothing, the combination of these relaxants coaxing me to sleep.

I'm awoken by a friendly doctor who comes to cast my hand. I close my eyes against the blinding overhead light he's turned on and try to tune out the whole process. He mostly talks to Rose, who proves to be a much better conversationalist, and I only catch brief, broken fragments of their chatter.

I'm still insanely drowsy when we leave the hospital.

"Do you need me to take you by your place for anything?" she asks me as I tuck myself into the passenger's seat of her car. I'm all set to snooze against the side of her door.

"No. He knows where I live," I ominously reply. "Can't I wear something of yours?"

Not everything she has will fit, but I figure I can make due with something.

"Of course."

Rose goes through the drive-thru of a nearby pharmacy to get my prescription for pain killers filled. I don't even remember the drive home; the next thing I know she is coaxing me out of the car, helping me make the steps up to her apartment. She puts me in her second bedroom and I fall asleep with all my clothes on, the emotional exhaustion and pain medication finally catching up with me.

-o-o-o-o-

EPOV

The next few days, I'm a complete mess.

I debate showing up at Bella's door on Saturday to take her to the wedding as previously planned. But a brief chat with Emmett convinces me it's not a good idea.

"Dude, she left you _chained to the bed." _He emphasizes this point with a quick wave of his hand. "You can't just show up at her place like nothing ever happened. Not unless you wear a cup of steel or something, because she'll probably castrate you."

"But then maybe we could talk," I reason pathetically.

"You'll just make her upset for her friend's wedding. She'll probably cry and shit and her eyes will get all raccoon-ish and you know how girls are about that stuff. She'll resent you forever if you make her go somewhere with raccoon eyes."

I eventually told Emmett the terms of the bet and he agreed that it was just a fucked up situation to be in. He even sympathized a bit, I think, but in the end his response was what I had expected. He clapped me on the back and said, "That's all just kind of fucked up, dude. But now you know a bet isn't the way to solve your problems. Maybe you should just let Bella be for a while. You might should even just...I don't know...count your losses this time."

Count my losses? As in just...give up?

If Bella wants nothing to do with me, I'll find a way to deal with it. It's definitely no less than I deserve. But I think she at least has a right to know why I made the bet in the first place. This way, maybe she can really move on.

Perhaps it's selfish, but I just want her to _know_. I want her to have the whole story rather than the misconstrued version. I want her to know it wasn't just over money or a car. That way, she can at least hate me properly.

I immerse myself with obsessions of Bella. I call her far more times than is considered appropriate and beg her to talk to me again and again. I send her several bouquets of flowers throughout the day and litter her inbox with messages. In one voice mail I even offer a half-assed explanation of what happened, but I'm not sure she even listened to it.

Monday is a moderately subdued day, which is lucky. It gives me time to drive to Bella's work during my lunch break and leave a slew of flowers on her car, an inspiration that came out of nowhere. But it seems romantic – there is no way she can miss it, at least – so I go with it.

I call James that night, to admit to my loss, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he calls back at three in the morning when I'm fast asleep.

Tuesday is crazy again. I manage to slip away between meetings to call Bella and arrange for more flowers to be sent to her place, but otherwise I'm engaged in meeting after meeting without much time to think. I nearly forget to eat lunch and I get home over two hours late.

I call James again. My stomach knots up every time I anticipate this phone call; it's actually kind of nauseating.

But this time, he answers. And instead of his normal arrogance, he actually sounds a little upset.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man," I say, forcing a calmness to my words. My hands are already starting to sweat a little, and I decide it's best to just go ahead and get it all out there. "The bet's over."

"Oh, yeah?" he says angrily, and I'm actually a little surprised by his reaction. "And when were you planning on telling me this?"

"Umm..."

"You know what, man? It's fine. You managed to seduce the little ice bitch after all. Not sure what the fuck you offered her for it, but it must have been good since she claimed you're in love and shit. What a joke, right? Guess you never told her about the bet, huh?" His tone is spiteful and accusing. "Don't worry though, Eddie-boy. I let her know. And you're lucky I'm not pressing charges on her ass," he goes on.

I'm more than confused. For a moment, I'm not even sure what to say.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I finally wonder.

"Oh, so she didn't tell you how her crazy ass attacked me today?"

I'm not sure how to answer this, so I don't say anything.

Bella _attacked_ him?

"Whatever, man. A deal's a deal. I gave you my word so I'll leave your little cock-tease sister alone."

I feel my temper rise substantially at his words. If I could go through the phone and kill him, I probably would.

"James--" I begin, feeling hot.

"Later, bro." He abruptly hangs up. I stare at the phone a few moments, wondering if this is really it. I wonder if I've won even though I haven't actually...won.

But why is God's name would Bella tell James we're in love? Doesn't she hate me? She hasn't answered any of my calls in days. She's ignored me as effectively as if I don't exist at all.

And she _attacked _him?

The thought of her putting herself in any kind of compromising position with that creep upsets me. I don't know that he didn't do anything to her first, being such an unreliable source that he is, and I'm instantly on my phone again where I uselessly dial her number.

It rings and goes to voicemail, so I try again. And again. And again.

But by the third attempt it's obvious I'm getting nowhere, as expected, and I'm already out the door with my keys in hand. I'm not sure what I'm planning exactly. I just know I have to see her, to know that she's okay. I need to witness this with my own eyes.

I call Emmett in an effort to get some information – or perhaps to get Rose's number, who I think will be the best person to contact in this situation – but he doesn't answer either.

I'm nearly in Seattle by the time he calls back.

"What the fuck is going on, man?" I practically yell. "I've called you like a hundred times."

"Dude, calm down. It's not the fucking apocalypse when I don't have my phone turned on," he replies, and his easy, slightly bemused voice instantly grates on my nerves.

"Like hell it isn't. I need Rosalie's number."

"Why?"

"I just spoke to James and he said Bella attacked him," I explain. "I want to know what the fuck is going on. Have you talked to her? Do you know if she's okay?"

"Yeah, man. She's at the hospital--"

"She's at the _what_!"

"_Calm down_, Edward! Let me explain."

That proves to be an impossible feat, but I'm desperate to hear what he has to say. "Alright, alright. Tell me what happened."

"Well, from what Rose said, they had a little bit of a confrontation. He said some things – I'm not sure what – and she punched him in the nose. But she also hurt her hand in the process."

I groan. I want to _kill _James. I want to back over his legs with my car. I want to snap every single bone in his hands. I want to--

"That's all I know of, man," Emmett goes on. "I think he got the worst of it. As far as I know, Bella is fine except for her hand."

"Is Rose with her?"

"Yes."

"Give me her number."

"What? No. Why?"

"I want to talk to Bella."

"Edward, if Bella wanted to talk to you she'd answer her phone. I'm not gonna have you harassing Rose, too."

"I'm not _harassing_ anybody," I argue, though this may actually be a lie. Does sending someone a million flowers qualify as harassment these days?

"Yeah, dude. You kind of are. You know I'd love to see two actually end up together, but I'm trying to be reasonable--"

"Fuck reasonable, Em! I want to talk to Bella."

Perhaps my outburst is a little uncalled for, but I don't think I really deserve the dial tone that soon greets my ear. It takes every ounce of restraint to keep from slamming my phone into the windshield.

I don't even know what hospital she's at. The first one I try claims to not know of a Bella Swan, and they refuse to call the other hospitals in the city to determine her whereabouts. Not that I expected them to, but it was worth a shot.

I try calling beforehand, but the second hospital won't give me any information over the phone. It turns out she's not there either.

At the third hospital, I hit my mark. But I'm also confronted with another bout of bad luck.

"Bella Swan was released over two hours ago," the secretary informs me, and I bite my lip to keep from cursing out loud in the middle of the lobby.

Thankfully, Rose's number is listed, so I retrieve her address from information and head over to her apartment. I enter the main lobby and use my charm to get her apartment number from the small, petite brunette situated behind the counter.

But when I knock on her door, it only opens a few inches. There's a chain keeping it secure, and it only provides a small space for which Rose to leer at me.

"What are you doing here?" she demands. Her voice is not unkind, but firm.

"Is Bella here?" I ask instead. I think my question confirms the reasons behind my visit.

She narrows her eyes at me. "What's it to you?"

"I want to see her," I say. "What happened? Is she alright?"

"She's fine," Rose answers, her tone clipped and direct. "She's asleep, actually. But I'll tell her you stopped by."

I suspect she's lying. She tries to shut the door in my face but I quickly stick my hand forward and stop her. Her widened eyes wordlessly seek mine as they ask me what the fuck I'm doing.

"Edward..." she says warningly. I fear she may be seconds away from calling the cops. I'm getting desperate.

"Please, Rose. Just give me five minutes," I beg.

"I can't, Edward."

"Please--"

"Hold on." She shuts the door and my heart stops. My thoughts race between fear and excitement as I consider the alternatives: she's either locked me out for good or she's going to remove the chain and let me inside.

When the door opens wide I nearly collapse in relief, but she quickly ushers me aside as she joins me in the hallway. The door clicks shut quietly behind her.

"Look, Edward," she begins. "You're a real selfish fuck. You know that?"

I'm not really surprised we're having this conversation. I expected it to happen eventually, what with her being with Emmett and me still pining over her best friend and all.

"I know, I know," I agree, and her eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"Oh you do, huh?" she asks angrily.

"Yes."

"Then you should be fucking disgusted with yourself."

"I am."

"You did a deplorable thing."

"I know."

"If I was Bella, I would have chopped your dick off in your sleep."

"I, err--"

"You _deserve_ to have it chopped off. You should never be allowed to ruin another poor girl ever again."

"I didn't—"

"And this," she cuts me off and waves a hand around to emphasize my mere presence, "isn't helping her deal with everything. You need to leave her alone."

"I _will_, Rose!" I insist, and upon her raised, skeptical eyebrow I quickly add, "After we talk."

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"I know, but if she would just give me a chance--"

"You don't deserve a chance."

God _damn_ this girl is frustrating. I run a hand through my hair, exasperated, but I'm ready to barrel through the door kicking and screaming if that's what it takes.

"Rose, please. Haven't you ever fucked up before? Haven't you ever done something you _truly_ honest to goodness regret?"

She purses her lips and crosses her arms, her knowing _I do no wrong_ smirk on her face.

"Haven't you ever...I don't know...said something mean to someone for no reason? Talked about someone behind their back? Lied to someone?" Her smirk falters, and I see a weakness and pounce. "I've done some regrettable shit, Rose. I've never loathed anything as much as I have that entire night. But if I could take it all back, I'm not so sure I would do it." Her eyes harden again, so I rush to continue.

"I did a fucked up thing. I admit it. But if I hadn't gone to the bar that night – if I hadn't run into James – then I might have never met Bella. And as fucked up as it is, I can't regret something that led me to her. I just fucking can't."

Rose looks at me, her brow scrunched in her conflict.

"If there's one thing I truly regret, Rose, it's just not telling her the truth in the beginning. I was selfish and stupid. Every time my feelings for her got stronger I would try to deny it and convince myself they weren't real. But I still didn't want to hurt her, and eventually I stopped trying to win the bet. But I didn't want to lose the bet either." I groan in frustration and pull at my hair again. "I know, I know that sounds really terrible. But what would _you_ do for your baby sister, Rose?"

She takes a deep breath, her eyes wide and compassionate but torn and indecisive, as well.

"What happened to your sister?" she whispers, and my heart races in the hope that I may finally be getting through to her - that she may actually let me through that door.

"I'd rather Bella hear the whole story from me," I say quietly, begging for her understand. It's not that I don't trust Rose, but—yeah, I don't trust Rose. I suspect the whole story would be on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow.

"Well." She clears her throat and shuffles her feet in the hallway. I can tell she's weighing the decision in her mind, conflicted by her options.

"Rose, _please_. I _beg_ of you. I'll get on my hands and knees if that's what it takes."

I can't believe how pathetic I've become in such a short amount of time.

But it works. Hesitating for only another moment, Rose finally sighs and twists the knob to her door, pushing it open. She doesn't enter, but takes a step back to give me room, instead.

"Five minutes," she says quietly. I can't believe my luck – I'm torn between giving Rose the biggest, creepiest hug in the world or sprinting to see Bella before Emmett shows up or something else crazy happens.

"Thank you, Rose," I breathe, and that's all I manage to utter before I rush inside the apartment. Bella is nowhere to be found in the living room or kitchen, so I make a quick dash for the bedrooms. The first is open and empty; the second has the door securely closed and I know, without the confirmation of actually seeing her body, that Bella lies inside.

My breathing becomes shallow as my heart beats frantically. I suddenly don't feel prepared for this. How will I get her to listen to me? What if she screams at me and demands I leave? I should have rehearsed a speech or something...

But my minutes are ticking down. Do I really only get five, or was Rosalie only bluffing? It won't do to risk it; I push open the bedroom door and peer inside without another thought.

Bella is lying on the bed, but her rest isn't peaceful. She tosses and turns and thrashes in her sheets. She's still fully clothed, the cast on her hand a deep maroon color which stands out among the pale fabrics.

My heart lurches at the sight of her, and before I know it my feet are propelling me forward. As I draw closer I see that her cheeks are stained with dried tears, a few stray strands of her hair matted against the sides of her face. She whimpers, but there's no doubt that she's really asleep.

I crouch beside her bed, afraid to get too close. I'm afraid she'll wake while I'm near and go ape shit at my presence.

"Bella?" I whisper. Her head turns, but it's the result of her restlessness, not her actual return to consciousness.

"Bella," I try again.

I reach out to touch her shoulder, tentative and slow, while continuously wondering if this is a good idea.

"No," she suddenly says. Her voice is quiet, but I have no doubt of what she's said. I freeze, my hand poised in the air, and wait for an outburst or an attack.

"No," she says again. I quickly withdraw my hand.

"Bella..."

"Stop it!" she goes on, agitated now, but one look at her face reveals she's actually still asleep. I can't help the small wave of relief I have, although I feel shitty for it.

"Bella, you need to wake up," I say, softly shaking her shoulder. "I think you're having a nightmare."

"Edward." She barely pants the word, and suddenly she's latching onto my shirt with her uninjured hand. She tugs it towards her hard, stretching the fabric when I resist the pull.

"Bella..." I softly coax. I try to gently pry her fingers from their death grip, but this only makes her hold on tighter. She's calling my name again, tugging me to her, and I suddenly find myself sitting beside her in the bed, unable to resist when she buries her face into my side and settles down against me, peaceful at last.

I shouldn't relish her touch this way, especially when she's asleep. I'm being so fucking selfish it makes me sick.

I'm scared to touch her, so I keep my hands a few inches away. I have no right to just swoop in and pretend she's mine, as if I actually deserve her.

But I don't want to move, either. So I sit there and begin to ramble.

I tell her how sorry I am for everything I've done. I tell her how thankful I am for having her in my life these brief two weeks – how she helped me realize what I'm doing, and how to better myself as a person – but I can't regret anything that led me to meet her. But I do regret the way I handled the situation, and I do regret that we haven't been able to have an actual conversation. And while I don't deserve her, nor expect her to forgive me, I think she deserves the entire story so that she can properly move on from this experience.

I tell her these things even though she can't hear me – even though it makes no sense. But I can't stop myself, the words just pouring forth like sea-sickness. It comes and comes despite my inner pleas, my inner yearning for it to stop and all go away.

She stirs beside me, and I think I hear her voice so I pause. It comes louder this time.

"Edward?"

The tone is clearer than before, but I assume she's still asleep.

"Hmm?" I say, mostly to appease her unconscious mind.

She shifts back a bit, and I suddenly see her brown eyes, dim in the faint light that's offered from the street lamp outside.

"What are you doing here, Edward?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the delay with this one. And um...sorry for the cliffie again lol. If I had the whole thing written I'd go ahead and post the next chapter tonight, I promise. But my poor little fingers are too slow and RL is a bitch. The next chapter should be up by next Thursday.**

**Ms_ambrosia beta'd this one super quick and did an awesome job as usual. Thanks to passionmama and HeathersTwilight for prereading and for their support of this story.**

**You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for teasers and updates.**

**As always, I'd love to hear what you think.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all thigns Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 27

BPOV

My dream shifts.

First I'm dreaming that James is with me again, demanding answers and making more accusations. He comes to Rose's apartment to find me and his nose is still bleeding, dripping blood all over her light beige carpet, and she's screaming and threatening to call the cops while he corners me against the wall. He demands to know why I would sleep with Edward and not him. Did he not open doors for me while we dated? Did he not buy me dinner countless times?

Then Edward comes and confronts James, but their encounter is short-lived. James disappears into a wisp of smoke, fading into the hazy atmosphere that surrounds me.

Edward is suddenly at my side and he's apologizing again and again, offering explanations, but none of it makes much sense. He keeps talking about Ursula.

"I told Emmett not to take her from you," he says angrily. "She was your life-line in all of this. She would have protected you from James."

I wonder how this could be, my brow furrowed deep with confusion.

"But no, he took her away," Edward goes on. "And all of this _could_ have been prevented."

I'm baffled by his reasoning, but decide against arguing with him when he's angry.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry. I should have done something. I should have stopped him."

His presence is so real; I can feel the fabric of his clothes against my fingers, his scent in my nose, his voice in my ear. All of my senses are being stimulated by him, by his mere essence, and that makes it the most realistic dream I've ever had.

I feel myself moving back to consciousness and I desperately fight this. I've missed having Edward around, so much so that I'll take him in my dreams if it's all I can get.

But my eyes open and I blink. It's dark – I can't see a thing around me as my eyes adjust – but I can still hear his voice; I can still smell his distinct scent of laundry detergent and aftershave. And I think I must be hallucinating.

"Edward?" I whisper. I feel someone shift beside me - someone who I've taken liberties to snuggle against – and my heart instantly begins to race.

"Hmm?" comes the reply, and I lean back to look at his face. His head turns so that he can see me, his eyes widening dramatically as they meet my own.

"What are you doing here, Edward?" I ask. My voice is a bit empty, lacking all of the emotions I actually feel. They are overridden by one predominant feeling.

Disbelief.

_Am I still dreaming_?

I can feel Edward's body tense against mine – I can hear his breath catch in his throat – and I know these things are much too vivid to be a dream. But what is he doing here? And how in holy hell did he ever get past Rose? Is she still alive?

"Are you awake?" he asks cautiously.

I suddenly feel as though I've been violated by a Peeping Tom or something. What in God's name made him think it was okay to come snuggle with me while I'm asleep? Is he not able to take a hint?

He slowly moves away from me, probably ashamed at himself and our current situation, and I shamefully despair over our sudden loss of contact. _What the hell is wrong with me? _

I don't allow him to see this, however. I scoot farther away from him instead, desperately reeling in every ounce of anger I can find. But I'm still groggy from the pain medication despite the painful throb in my wrist; I can only adequately register the shock and relief and confusion from having him here with me again.

Shouldn't I be pissed that he's here? Livid, even? I worked so hard to keep him away. Now none of this is making sense.

"Yes, I'm awake," I reply. My voice is thick with sleep and I hasten to clear it.

"Um...did you hear everything I said?" he asks slowly. He sounds nervous and unsure of his question and I frown, wondering if he really did go off on a tantrum about the cat.

"You mean about Ursula?"

"What?" Now he's confused. "No, I didn't say anything about Ursula."

"Oh." I guess my subconscious mind just inserted that part in there. I really do miss that beast.

"Can we talk, Bella?" he asks desperately. "I just want you to know _everything_. And after we're done, I'll leave. I promise."

God, he's persistent. I'm still not even sure how he got in here. Will this be a reflection of the rest of my life if I refuse to hear him out now? A constant barrage of flowers and notes and unexpected visits?

I want more time to think. I still don't think my thoughts are where they need to be. My feelings for him are too strong. Can I really look at things objectively and make wise decisions regarding _us_ when this desperation inside of me – this uncontrollable _yearning_ – is begging to hear him out and let him to stay, to make things better between us no matter the costs?

"I talked to James," he says, interrupting my thoughts. I tense at just the mention of the name.

"Did you really say those things to him, Bella?"

I hesitate, wondering if I should deny everything, but that's all our relationship has ever been. Just lies and denial.

"Yes," I admit quietly.

"Why did you do that, Bella? He could have done something to you..."

He stares at my ugly maroon cast which feels as though it's going to shred open with each painful throb of my hand. I want more pain medicine, but I won't dare take any now. Not if we're really going to talk.

"I want to know what happened." His statement is a weak demand at best. He knows I don't have to tell him shit.

"I told him you won the bet," I finally say.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I say truthfully. "I was just caught off guard and I...I _hate_ him, okay?" I want to say that I hate Edward too, that I hate them both for making the bet, but my lips can't even begin to form the words. "I didn't want him to win whatever sick little thing you guys bet for. I don't know why I did it, I just...did."

He sighs loudly and rubs his eyes with his fingers. I wish I could see him better in the dim light.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he begins sadly. "It was probably the dumbest thing I've ever done. Will you please just let me explain?"

I give him a small, dismal smile. "It's fine, Edward. I did a shitty thing, too. I'm over it now. We can just forget it all happened and move on," I lie.

His eyes widen. "I don't _want_ to just forget about it," he says. "I want to explain everything. I want to try and make things _right_."

"Why?" I wonder, my voice callous and perhaps a tad bit too loud. "You won, Edward. It's over. You got what you wanted."

"It's _not_ what I wanted, Bella," he says, then he groans. "I didn't _want_ to lose, I'll admit it. But if you'll let me explain then maybe you'll see why."

"Why are you trying so hard, Edward? I handcuffed you to your headboard and left you there for crying out loud," I say, exasperated.

"I deserved that," he says quickly.

"No one _deserves_ that," I object. It was a stupid thing to do on so many different levels. And how immature I had been!

"We can talk about that later if you want," he says, clearly missing my point. "Just let me explain for five minutes."

I sigh, turning my head to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It reads eight twenty-six.

"Alright. Five minutes."

He smiles, relieved. "Thank you, Bella. Thank you so--"

"You're wasting time," I interrupt, uncomfortable with his gratitude. I don't deserve it. I should have given him the chance to explain days ago if that's what he wanted, especially after my crazy stunts with the charades and handcuffs.

"Right." He nods and clears his throat.

"I don't even know where to begin," he starts nervously. I raise my eyebrows, silently waiting. "Okay, well James and I used to be friends back in middle school. He was an alright guy until we entered high school. Then he became...promiscuous, I guess you could say." His eyes flit nervously to mine as he gauges my reaction, but I remain neutral.

"He always had a thing for my sister, Alice. He never said anything to me about it, but then one day she had a pool party at the house with a bunch of her little friends. She was outside in her bathing suit and I caught him staring at her.

"He had this sickening expression, Bella. And she had just turned _fourteen_. So later, I confronted him about it and he acted like he didn't know what I was talking about. But when I told him to stay away from her he got defensive. He told me if she ever chose to do anything with him that it would be her decision, that she was old enough to make decisions like that. But she was fucking _fourteen_."

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation or disgust, I can't be sure. He's not even looking at me.

"Then one day, I caught her flirting with him. She was so young, and he had been a friend of mine – she didn't know any better," he says, as though defending her against an unspoken accusation. "So I talked to her and told her not to get involved with him. I told her how he was and how he treated girls and, of course, being told not to do something by her older brother just made her want to do it more."

He looks at me, his expression pleading, and I feel a little nauseous at the implications of what's to come.

"She went out with him behind my back," he confesses. "Each time I confronted her about it, she would brush me aside and grow more distant. I asked Carlisle to talk to her, but he denied that anything was going on. I threatened James repeatedly. But I didn't have any proof that anything bad was actually happening. James was sixteen at the time, about to turn seventeen.."

He sighs heavily.

"Then one day she came home upset and withdrawn. She got depressed and wouldn't talk to me. To this day she _still _won't tell me everything. I had to find out from her boyfriend, Jasper," he says bitterly. "Jasper is the first male she's trusted in years.

"But then James would show up out of the blue and talk to Alice and leave her threatening messages from unknown numbers. She eventually listened to us and got a restraining order, but then one day she came home to find him at the house. Carlisle and Esme were gone for a medical conference out of town and I wasn't living there anymore. Thankfully, she got away before he could do anything, but she called Jasper in hysterics and said she still didn't feel safe living anywhere near him. She said a restraining order is just a piece of paper and that he can still get to her if he really wants to."

He pauses, his pained eyes seeking mine. "And she's right, you know," he confirms.

I feel frozen, unable to even nod.

"That's why she moved to San Francisco," he states. "She did it to get away from James. She put nearly a thousand miles between them – between _us_. And Jasper, God bless him, packed up his life and went with her."

This is a lot to process. I'm repulsed that I actually let that slime-bag put his tongue in my mouth. But he didn't seem like such a sleeze until the end. He'd actually been quite complimentary, even a gentlemen at times.

But there was always something...off. And there was that _one _night. That one night when he'd tried to take things further and I'd stopped him. He got frustrated and angry, but later he apologized and chalked it up to a bad day.

How could I have been so stupid?

"I'm sorry, Edward," I whisper. I'm not sure how this ties in with the bet, but it's a terrible situation either way.

Edward goes on with his explanation. "When they first started going out he apparently took some...pictures...of her." He grits his teeth on the words. "I don't really think she thought much about them for a while – maybe she figured he no longer had them? I'm not sure. But then right before she moved away, he threw them up in her face, threatening to spread them around for everyone to see.

"When she told Jasper about them, he got pissed. And rightfully so. I mean, God, if I would have found out..." His voice trails, but he quickly regroups and launches into his story again. "Jasper went to James' place in the middle of the night, while James was out, and broke in. He tore the place apart looking for them, but he eventually found them. Thank fucking God." He looks at me with glazed eyes. "Alice was only fourteen god damn years old when he took those pictures," he reiterates angrily.

I can only nod helplessly.

"Apparently one of James' friends saw, because he figured out it was Jasper pretty quick. A few days passed and Jasper was pulled over. The cop had a warrant to search his car, and inside his glove box they found an antique diamond necklace worth thousands of dollars."

I hold my breath in anticipation.

"It belonged to James," Edward confirms. "He had documents on it and everything. He reported it missing the day his house was broken into.

"Jasper was arrested, obviously. Alice called me in hysterics and we were able to bail him out since it was his first offense."

"He didn't really steal it, did he?" I ask, aghast.

"God, no!" says Edward, horrified. "It was a set-up, Bella. James pressed charges. He did this just to get to Jasper. And Alice."

"Was Jasper found guilty?"

"We're still awaiting the trial," he answers. "The attorneys are stretching it out a bit."

I nod as if I understand, but I really don't. I have no idea how these things work.

"But what about the pictures?" I ask. "Can't they use those against James? I'm sure if Alice testifies..."

"The pictures are gone," Edward interrupts. "She got rid of them the moment she got them back. And it's not as if she really wants to parade those around for people to see anyway. She doesn't want half the town thinking of this when they hear the Cullen name. And can you blame her?

"I was drunk that night at the club, Bella." His voice is remorseful, and a part of me thinks this is no excuse. But then I recall the night I drunk dialed him and made a fool of myself and I instantly realize I'm not one to judge.

"Okay," I offer weakly.

"It's no excuse, but I wasn't really thinking straight. I ran into him in the bathroom and he just kept fucking antagonizing me. He went on and on about a girl who wouldn't sleep with him and all I wanted to do was get out of there before I decked him and got arrested myself.

"But then he bet me that you wouldn't sleep with me, either. And I blew him off at first, Bella. I swear I did. But when he asked me if there was _anything_ I wanted from him all I could think of is that I wanted him to leave Jasper and my sister alone – to drop the charges and never contact them again. I fucking _hate_ that Alice doesn't feel completely safe when she comes home to visit. She's been through so much already, Bella. She doesn't need that shit."

He's angry now, his eyes narrowed and hard. I can see his fist clenching even in the dim light.

"And Jasper doesn't deserve this, either. He's a good guy. He would do anythingfor Alice. I was drunk," he says again, desperate. "He said the girl was there. It didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, Bella. I was thinking that any girl who gave James the time of day – any girl who frequented a club like _that_ – probably slept around anyway."

I gasp at his accusation. "Yes, and that's exactly the kind of asinine thoughts I expected from someone who'd make a bet like that," I say angrily. "Did it ever occur to you that your _sister _gave James the time of day? And that even though I did go out with James, we _never_ _had sex?"_

He runs a hand through his hair again. Soon it will be snatched out from the roots.

"I know that," he says. "But I wasn't thinking rationally. I was drunk out of my mind. I was anxious for any way to one-up James."

I'm at a loss for words, so I remain silent. What can I really say? That it's okay that he screwed me over because he was drunk?

"I know it's no excuse," he says again and I'm relieved that he agrees. "But I wanted you to at least know _why_. I would never do something like this over money, Bella. Or over any material possession. If I wasn't so hot about helping my sister then I wouldn't have done it this time, either."

I sigh, lifting my right hand to brush a strand of hair from my face, but a terrible pain rips through my arm when I do. I grimace and move to stand from the bed.

"Are you leaving?" Edward wonders anxiously.

"No, Edward," I say, sighing again. "My hand really hurts. I at least need some Tylenol or something."

"I'll get it," he says quickly, and he's gone before I can object.

He returns several minutes later with two Percocet and a glass of water, but I shake my head when he tries to hand them to me.

"I don't want that," I say. "I won't be able to focus."

"You need something stronger than Tylenol, Bella." He frowns. "I won't be here that much longer, anyway. I'll probably be gone by the time it kicks in."

My chest tightens at the thought of him leaving. I can't understand why I'm still so drawn to having him with me. We're obviously no good for each other, so why does my subconscious constantly protest what I know is right?

I reluctantly take the items from his hands. "Fine," I say quietly. "But you _have _to be gone now. I can't be near you when I'm high."

He smiles, but it fades just as quickly as it comes.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"You've said that." My tone is light, joking almost, but there's no humor in the situation.

"Not about that – well yes, about that – but about _everything_. I should have done things differently. I lied to you for the entire two weeks. All I had to do was tell you, but I was terrified of, well_...everything_.

"I know it's fucked up, but I really didn't want to lose. I would give just about _anything _for James to just leave Alice alone. I don't want her to be afraid to come home."

"But how will she even know?" I wonder. "She'll still be afraid--"

"I'll tell her," he interrupts. "I'm going to tell her everything. She'll probably be pissed off. She really liked you. She may call you, but please don't feel like you have to answer."

"Will she even believe you?"

"I think so," he says quietly. He seems a little unsure. "We've been through a lot together, Bella. But we're closer now than we've ever been before. I think she finally realizes that I _always_ have her best interests at heart. I always have. And I've never lied to her..."

He trails off, ashamed eyes meeting mine, but he doesn't continue.

_At least he's always been truthful to her_, I think, but then I feel ashamed. I was no more honest with him.

"What would James have gotten if he won?" I wonder. A million unsettling possibilities enter my mind. There is no telling what sordid things a dick like James would desire.

I can only hope Edward didn't promise him anything to do with Alice.

"Joint-ownership of the company," he mutters. "Actually...he wanted to be the majority shareholder."

Had my water been to my lips, I surely would have inhaled the entire glass and died. I feel as though the shock alone may do me in.

"Majority shareholder!" I cry, aghast. "You _agreed_ to that? What in the hell would your father think? Isn't it his company, too?"

"It's _my_ company," he says haughtily. "It has been for years."

"I think this is absolutely the dumbest thing I've ever heard," I say. Perhaps I'm being a little harsh, but he certainly deserves it.

"I never said it wasn't." He sounds a little offended.

"So what the hell, Edward? If I hadn't told James that we had sex he'd rightfully own your company right now?"

"He'd still have to buy his share..."

"I can't believe that, Edward."

"I was _drunk, _Bella. I'm an awful drunk. It's why I rarely drink. And I made a mistake."

"That's a pretty good reason to call everything off, don't you think? An agreement made when you're drunk doesn't really count for much."

Edward snorts. "Try telling that to James. If I would have tried to call it all off he probably would've gone after Alice even harder just to spite me."

"You shouldn't have brought her into it," I say quietly, and he groans, tugging at his hair again. It's now sticking up in an almost comical disarray.

"I don't know why I did it," he says. "I don't really expect you to understand. But I thought I would try. You deserve to know everything, I think."

He seems so genuine. This one time, I don't doubt his sincerity.

But what now? He's told me everything. I know the whole story. And while it's not as bad as it originally seemed, we still having nothing between us except two weeks based on lies and deceit.

I would love to forget about everything and start afresh. I would love to rub my hand through his hair, to ease that small worry line between his brows. I would love to spend the night with him and then the days and days to come.

But I still don't know if that's good for me – good for _us_. And more importantly, I don't even know if that's what he wants. From what everyone has told me, he hasn't had a serious relationship in years. Why would that change now?

"I guess I'll go," he says with a sigh. "I know you're probably tired."

But when he stands to leave, my body acts of its own accord and I'm suddenly latching onto his arm in desperation. His surprise mimics my own, and for a few torturous moments we stare at each other in question, both of us trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

"I--" I try to say _something_, but words have completely left me. I release his arm. "Sorry," I mumble.

"Don't be, Bella. Did you want to talk about something else?"

He looks at me, scared and hopeful.

"No," I tell him. My heart protests, but it's unable to stop the words from coming. "I need to think about things for a while, Edward. But thank you for telling me everything. I'm trusting that you're being honest with me now--" He opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly cut him off again. "And I thank you for it. I wasn't honest with you, either. I was stupid. I should have just told you I knew the moment I found out, but I had this genius idea that I could have fun with everything. And that was wrong, too. So I'm sorry."

He smiles sadly at me. But I can tell that he appreciates what I'm saying. "Thank you, Bella. And you're forgiven."

I'm astounded at his admission. And I wish, more than anything, that I could say the same – that I could forgive him as easily.

But he's given me so much to think about and process. I can't wrap my mind around everything at the moment. I still like him, that much is certain, but I'm not even sure why that is. I can't explain this undeniable draw to him.

"Thank you, Edward," I whisper.

He leans forward to kiss me on the forehead, the touch so light that I wonder if I've imagined it. Just as quickly as my eyes flutter closed, the moment is over.

The next few seconds – the ones in which he walks out of the room – seem to be the most substantial in my life. I've never before had such a painful, aching void in my chest. Because this is it – he no longer has a reason to contact me. The notes and phone calls and messages and flowers will stop.

I may very well never see him again, and that alone is enough to leave me sobbing openly into the dark room.

Rose eventually wanders inside and timidly offers me dinner. I refuse, absently wondering if I'll ever desire such mundane things like eating again.

I lie there, thankful that Edward convinced me to take the Percocet. It takes away the ache, allowing a numbness to settle in instead. It allows me to fall asleep long before the tears have had a chance to dry against my skin.

* * *

Sorry to separate them again, but it's better that it happens this way. Just TRUST ME. They won't be apart for long at all.

Muchos thanks to ms_ambrosia for betaing and passionmama and Heathers Twilight for prereading. And of course, thank you guys for all your reviews. They're seriously what keeps me pushing for weekly updates right now. Cause otherwise, I'd kick back in my bean-bag chair and watch History channel reruns all day. You guys have saved me.

You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for updates and teasers.

I hate making promises when there's always the risk I won't be able to keep them, but there's a good chance I'll see you next Thursday ;-)


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 28

_Two weeks earlier..._

I stumble into the bathroom, each stall and urinal a haze as I try to cross the room without falling over. The pounding music, faint behind the closed door, can still be heard through the thin walls. I lean forward against the wall while I relieve myself, seeking support from anything to keep from falling over.

Just as I'm washing my hands, the bathroom door swings open, allowing a wave of loud music to seep inside. I turn on instinct, then blink to try and clear my vision. Surely – fucking _surely_ – I'm hallucinating.

But the newcomer breaks into a wide grin when he sees me.

"Well if it isn't Edward fucking Cullen," he booms. "How ya been, man?"

His long hair is tied into a tight ponytail, his shirt sleeves shoved up high on his elbows. His entire face and the brim of his shirt collar is coated in a light sheen of sweat.

He stops at the sink and splashes water on his face. We eye each other through the mirrors; I instantly get the urge to deck him, a feeling fueled by the copious amount of alcohol in my system.

"I'm fine, James," I answer curtly. I don't bother asking him how he is – I don't care.

"I don't see you here often," he goes on. "Out for some tail?"

God, he's so fucking annoying. I dry my hands with some paper towels, preparing to leave, and ignore him. I can feel my face heating already.

He just keeps fucking talking, as if we're friends, purposefully egging me on. "I doubt you'll have much luck here, dude. There's nothing but little Virgin Mary's out there. In fact, I just saw an ex of mine. She wouldn't put out after three fucking months." He shakes his head in disdain and I roll my eyes. Is it really any surprise a girl won't put out for him? I instantly feel sorry for her for having to ward off his advances.

"Maybe it's you and not the girl," I spitefully observe. My words slur a bit more than I would like. "I've never had that problem."

"Oh, you would with this girl, bro. Trust me. I laid it on thick for three months. Bella fucking Swan." He scoffs her name with distate.

"Whatever you say."

"I'll _bet _you you couldn't land her, bro." I hate the way he refers to me with such ease, as if we've been buddies for years.

We were friends once, just barely, but that's now in the past. That was before I knew what he was capable of.

"Not interested," I mumble, attempting to slide past him. He moves slightly to block my way.

"There's got to be _something_ you want," he insists.

"You _know_ what I want, James," I say, annoyed. I highly doubt he'd ever give in to that – not over a little wager like this.

"Done," he says immediately. My eyes widen, the room spins, and I wonder, again, if I'm hallucinating or dreaming.

Someone clears their throat behind us. We both look towards the stalls and spy a pair of feet beneath one of the doors.

I pull James outside and shut the door. It's a little louder here, but it's dark and offers some privacy.

"What do you mean, 'done'?" I wonder skeptically. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

"Of course I do, man," he answers. "That's how confident I am you can't bag this chick."

"I want you to leave my family alone," I go on, just to clarify. "Jasper, too. I want you to drop the charges and never speak to me or Jasper or _anyone_ in my family ever again. Especially Alice."

My breathing quickens as my adrenaline spikes. I can feel a pounding behind my ears. The idea of him actually agreeing to this shit is too good to be true.

"Fine," he says, his voice callous. "But if _I_ win, and you _can't _bed her, then I want half your company."

_No. Fucking. Way_.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I spit. I feel myself sway and grab the wall again to keep steady.

"What's wrong, Cullen? Not feeling so confident anymore?"

His face is inches from mine, his reeking breath tainting the air around me.

"What's your game, James? Why are you so confident?"

"I laid it on smooth, man. There's no way you can do better than me."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

He looks offended. "Don't insult me, dude. I always keep my fucking word. You know that."

At the moment, with thoughts of Alice and Jasper flooding my mind, I can't really focus on much else. James has always been one up for a good challenge, and this is thankfully something I can control.

I can do this. Girls throw themselves at me constantly – even the ones that don't seem to lose their focus after a good smile and a few compliments.

I throw a sloppy hand out, ignoring the way the room spins and the fact that James is not completely in focus.

"Deal."

_My mind is so messed up_

_Goin' round and round_

_Must there be all the colours_

_Without names, without sound, baby?_

_My heart burns with feeling, but,_

_My mind, it's cold and reeling_

_Is this love baby,_

_Or is it confusion?_

EPOV

The house seems cold when I get home. It's dark and lonely and so abnormally quiet that the noise seems misplaced when I turn on the TV. I don't want to watch it; I just want something to fill this empty void that's around me, to give the false impression that there's carefree people nearby or else those with problems worse than my own. I just need something here to assure me that life is still moving forward, that I can't let one bad occurrence pull me under.

Or rather, multiple bad occurrences.

But I don't dwell on this now. It will only dampen my spirits further, and they're already dangerously close to breaking down completely as it is.

I consider calling Alice. I dial the number in my phone and sit there, imagining her voice and her reactions to my words. She'll want to know everything from the beginning, and I'm not sure I'm ready to relive it again for the second time tonight.

Clad in only my boxers, I sit on my bed for what feels like hours and hours. I stare at my phone, at the contacts and numbers within, and rethink everything I've done and everything that's happened in the last two weeks.

Finally, I turn my phone off and place it on the nightstand. I crawl under the covers, but I don't sleep.

-o-o-o-o-

BPOV

The only way to keep Edward off my mind is to work harder, longer, and faster. I become submersed in my job more than ever before, barely pausing to eat lunch and never taking breaks. My boss is impressed. Some of my coworkers worry about me while others suspect I have something to prove.

But I ignore their gossip. I can't get my mind off one person long enough to be concerned with what anyone else thinks of me. I don't care what they have to say.

I don't hear from Edward the entire weekend. I'm a little disappointed – each day a tiny part of me hopes to find a note or some kind of semblance of his presence. I want some sort of concrete evidence that he does, in fact, care.

But this doesn't happen until Monday afternoon.

On Monday, after returning from my lunch break, I find an enormously fat, stuffed cat sitting on my desk. The thing is so swollen that its short, stumpy arms and legs protrude straight out at its sides, each arm unable to touch the other or even come close, for that matter.

I pick it up. It's black and white, unlike Ursula, and has a folded note pined to its hand which reads,

_Hello Beautiful._

_I know you want some space, but I saw this and it reminded me of you._

_Nearly everything reminds me of you, although I know how much you love well-fed animals._

_Emmett told me where Ursula came from. Thank you for not bringing her to my house._

_Is it bad if I admit I think about you constantly? _

_I'm sorry for everything. I hope you don't hate me forever._

_Edward._

I clutch the cat in my hand and smile. Then I place her in my lap, where she remains for the rest of my work day. All hope of forgetting about Edward Cullen has officially gone to shit.

-o-o-o-o-

Against my better judgment, I send Edward a quick, short text when I get home.

_Thanks for the kitty_. - _B_

I fidget anxiously as I wait for his response, but it comes in record time.

_You're welcome. I really hope you like it. - E_

I stand there for a moment, wondering if I should initiate further conversation. I wonder if it's a good idea to talk to him and get wrapped up in words from a man I should probably avoid.

But he's likely encouraged by the fact that I initiated the conversation, because he texts again before I make a decision.

_Have you been well? - E_

My insides flutter when I get his message. I think for a moment and respond.

_All things considered, yes. You? - B_

It takes him a little longer to reply this time.

_I've been better. I really miss you_._ - E_

I bite the knuckles of my good hand in excitement and apprehension. What does this mean?

Oh, everything about him is just so confusing! I squeeze the cat in a death grip as I try to make heads and tails of his words.

I type my response before I can really process how I'm feeling, my inner commitment to honesty ringing loudly in my ears.

_I miss you, too. - B_

God, we're such a sad pair. How did we ever get in the mess?

_I can think of a good solution to this... - E_

The thought of inviting Edward over excites me in every imaginable way. But am I – and is he – ready for that? Are we ready to try and make something more of the mess of a way we came together?

Even if I was over everything that happened, and able to completely forgive him, are we still emotionally ready to be more to each other than just memories and lessons learned?

I think about this for several minutes. My hands shake, my heart aches, and the next words I send him make me want to cry.

_I'm sorry, Edward. I just need a little more time. - B_

His next text surprises me.

_I understand. I'll give you all the time you need, Bella. If there's anyone in the world worth waiting for, it's you. - E_

-o-o-o-o-

Alice calls me the following evening. I've expected her call for days; in fact, I secretly looked forward to it. It seems I'm subconsciously latching onto anything that will remind me of Edward, no matter how badly I try to convince myself I don't want to think of him.

Thinking of Edward hurts, but it also makes me happy.

I smile as I answer the phone, an expression riddled with trepidation over our impending conversation.

"Hey, Alice."

"Oh my gosh, Bella," she breathes excitedly. "Thank God you answered."

"Why wouldn't I answer?" I ask, confused.

"I figured you'd hate me!" she cries, her voice anguished. "After what my stupid-ass brother did to you. We're not really related, I swear. Our parents actually bought him for a nickel."

I chuckle, feeling at ease for the first time in days. I barely know Alice, yet it's been far too long since I've heard her voice.

"You don't have to apologize for him," I argue.

"Of course I do, Bella. This whole thing is my fault."

"Alice..."

"And you dated James! I can't believe it. I feel so bad for you!"

"He never did anything too terrible to me," I say, attempting to placate her. I don't really think this is true. "Well, except for the bet..."

"Exactly! The bet. He just doesn't know how to leave people alone."

"I'm fine, Alice. Really. You don't have to worry."

"I know, I know. You can take care of yourself. I just can't help it. I threw up in my mouth a little bit when I heard the story."

I grin despite the subject of our conversation.

"I just want to...I just want to..." She growls into the receiver. "God forgive me, I shouldn't think such awful thoughts about people," she says abruptly. "Even if they are soul-less dicks who deserve to be castrated." As an afterthought, she quickly adds, "I'm talking about James, not Edward."

"Oh. Yeah, I assumed," I say quickly.

"Though I'm totally kicking Edward's ass the next time I see him," she adds.

"Okay." I have a feeling Edward can defend himself. Or else I'm just becoming a truly heartless bitch, because no part of me actually fears for his safety against tiny Alice.

"So when are you going to forgive him?" she asks, and I'm alarmed at the abrupt change in subject.

"Excuse me?" I sputter.

"You _are_ going to forgive him, right?" she asks anxiously.

"You mean Edward?"

"Of course, Bella. Who else? Not James!_"_

"Well, yeah. Of course not James," I say, mostly to myself.

"Are you still mad at him?" she goes on. "He apologized to you, right? He told me he did."

"Yes, Alice. He did."

"Are you going to forgive him? Please, please, _please _say you are," she begs. I'm a little confused at her enthusiasm.

"Why does it even matter?" I wonder, my tone a little harder than before.

I want to forgive him. More so than she probably knows. But it's just not that simple. It's not as simple as just..._doing _it...the way she seems to believe.

"He cares about you, Bella. _A lot_."

"Oh yeah?" I say rudely. I can't believe I'm being so harsh to this girl. None of this is her fault. "I'm sorry, Alice," I hastily apologize.

"Don't be," she says quickly, not giving me a chance to grovel. She doesn't seem offended by my words. "You have every right to be upset about this. I shouldn't be pushing you."

"Thank you."

She pauses.

"Oh, but you _will_ forgive him, right?" she goes on, unable to control herself. I groan loudly.

"Alice!"

"He's a good guy, Bella. I promise. This whole bet thing isn't like him. I mean, he's made his fair share of mistakes. But who hasn't? We talked about you for a long time. He's very taken with you, Bella. And that hasn't happened in years."

"Why hasn't it happened in years?" I wonder, insanely curious, yet I don't really expect to get an answer.

"I don't know exactly," she says. She sounds conflicted. "Edward's never really told me much about it. About what happened. But what I do know...I'm not even sure it's my story to tell."

"Yeah, well," I say, but I have nothing else to contribute. She's right; it's probably not her story to tell. And I have no business trying to guilt it out of her.

"I don't know where I would be without him," she says quietly. The love and adoration for her brother is evident in her voice, despite how angry she claims to be.

"I don't think he's a bad guy, Alice," I say truthfully. "I'm just kind of confused about everything. About how I feel."

"That's understandable. I don't mean to pressure you into doing something you don't want to do. It's just...I saw a change in him. And tonight, when I talked to him, it was pretty clear how much he cares about you."

That would sound so much better coming from Edward.

"Thank you, Alice. I just need a little more time to think about everything. I don't hate your brother, though. I probably couldn't even if I wanted to."

She's quiet for a moment.

"Thank you, Bella," she finally says.

-o-o-o-o-

I soon begin receiving an influx of gifts from Edward. It's apparent he's no longer concerned with giving me space; instead, he's hell bent on making sure I never forget he's thinking about me.

And they're not normal gifts, either. No. Normal gifts would be too easy to explain to those lifting inquiring eyebrows in my direction.

The first gift comes hidden inside a fancy envelope, the name _Isabella Swan _written delicately on the front. There's a heart in the corner of the paper and my coworker, Kate, immediately assumes it's from my romantic boyfriend who left all those lovely fucking petals on my car.

She stands over me oohing and aahing.

"What is it?" she quirps. "Hurry, open it!"

I rip open the paper, a tad bit nervous as to its sender and a little doubtful that it's even Edward. All I've gotten so far is the fat cat, but who else would it be?

Another coworker of mine, Irina, has joined us. I pull the envelope open to reveal its contents and we all three gasp collectively.

Then we stare at it, confused.

I'm the only one who knows what the hell this is about. Kate pulls it from my hand and holds it up to the light as if trying to uncover its hidden message.

"Scooter lessons?" she bellows. "Why the hell would he buy you scooter lessons? Do you even know how to drive a scooter?"

"Well that's the point, isn't it?" Irina quips. "I bet he wants them to take lessons together. Isn't that romantic?"

Kate nods reverently as though finally understanding. "That is _so _romantic," she gushes. "Why doesn't Collin ever do shit like this for me?" she quickly demands.

"I know, right?" says Irina. "Brady never wants to do stuff with me. All he wants to do is sit around playing Xbox and watching ESPN. I could dance around naked in front of him and he wouldn't even notice! Not until the commercial break, at least." They both burst into giggles.

They go on and on about how romantic my love life is for a while before finally sauntering away. I fold the certificate neatly and place it in my purse, unable to contain the small smile on my lips.

But it doesn't stop there.

After lunch, I return to find a giant box sitting on my desk. It's white with no wrapping. There's no card or any indication of how it got there.

I pry off the lid to reveal the biggest slice of Tiramisu in the world.

I greedily eat the entire goddamn thing, then spend the remainder of work with my trashcan nearby, trying desperately not to puke.

The next day, the available five seasons of the Lost DVD gift set arrive at my door along with a Grease soundtrack CD.

I don't call Edward to thank him for these gifts. I'm a bit overwhelmed, to be honest. I've never had someone don me with such quirky things before.

But each gift makes me smile. And I secretly sleep with my fat cat at night, hugging it close and wishing it was a fat Edward instead.

The third day is the most memorable. It's a day that I get off work early, having nothing else to do, and Rose meets me at my place so that I can change before we head out for an early dinner and drinks.

I'm in my room when someone knocks loudly on my door.

"Rose, will you get that?" I call.

I hear the door open and I hear voices. Quickly slipping on a shirt, I head out into the living room, freezing in my tracks when I see the scene before me.

There's a tall, dark-haired UPS worker with a giant, rolled-up rug hoisted over his shoulder. He's talking to Rose, making some joke I don't hear. She turns to me in alarm.

"So should I just leave it here?" he asks, and these words actually register. "Or I can spread it out for you if you like. Just tell me where you want it."

"What is it?" I ask, confused.

"Um...a rug."

"I didn't order a rug."

He sets it down with a frown and checks his clipboard, reciting my address and name to me.

"Perhaps it's a gift," he offers. "An early birthday present."

"Her birthday is months away, but this is fine," Rose interjects authoritatively. "You can just leave it here. I'm sure we can manage."

"Alright. I'll need your signature," he says. I quickly sign and send him on his way.

Rose and I stare at the rug for a minute. It's still rolled up, wrapped with some kind of clear tape to hold it together, and leans with a slight droop against my wall.

Rose speaks first. "Who the hell would send you this?"

I shrug, though I have a tiny inkling of who it could be. Who else has been sending me random gifts all week?

But a rug? Why?

"I have no idea," I lie. She approaches the rug and begins tearing at the tape. "What are you doing?"

"Opening it," she says, stating the obvious. "We need to at least see what it looks like. Damn, I can't rip it. Do you have a knife or something?"

I get some scissors from the kitchen and we open and spread the rug on the floor. It's red and dark blue with some flowers and designs. It's completely not my style.

"It doesn't match any of your stuff," Rose says with a huff. "Is this some kind of crazy gift from your mom again? Or maybe your dad. He has pretty awful taste in décor."

"I don't know..." I muse, running my fingers lightly over the fabric. Something about the rug is just so..._familiar_. I can't place it.

"What are you going to do with it?" Rose goes on. "You're not going to use it, are you? It'll clash with everything in here."

So familiar...

And then it hits me.

"I know this rug," I say with a gasp.

Rose's eyes widen. "You do? Well who sent it to you?"

"It's from _The Big Lebowski_."

"The big what?"

"_The Big Lebowski. _The movie."

She looks at me, confused.

"Christ, Rose! I told you to watch that movie like a thousand times!"

"It still doesn't explain who sent it to you. Does it?"

I stare at the rug and debate telling the truth.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Bella?" she asks, her tone accusing. I look up innocently.

"No...well, maybe."

"Go on."

"I think the rug is from Edward," I say in a rush. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise at first; then she just looks confused again.

"Why the hell would he send you a rug? And no offense, Bella, but it's not even a nice looking rug. It looks like something my Grandma would rock on in her knitting room."

"It's not _that_ bad," I say defensively, looking at the rug in reverence.

So it's not very chic, but it has...character. And it's a duplicate from my favorite movie, which makes it all the more desirable. I kind of like it. And that's not even getting started on the fact that it came from the person I'm admittedly missing more than is probably considered healthy.

"Why would he send you a rug, anyway? Of all things? Hasn't he heard of flowers?"

"Um, have you not seen my kitchen? It looks like a wilting greenhouse in there," I say, referring to the dozens upon dozens of flowers he sent me last week. She looks in the direction of my dying faux garden and softens.

"Okay, well, chocolates? A card? A teddy bear? _Something_! Moving from flowers to giant rugs isn't very traditional."

I sigh, then go on to explain the very un-traditional gifts I've been receiving. She salutes him for the scooter lesson idea, claiming it will likely save many lives in the future should I get a sudden burst of stupidity again, and she even smiles over the DVDs and Tiramisu.

"Tiramisu: the way to any woman's heart," she muses.

I don't agree, as I feel as though I may never be able to eat the stuff again after my irrational binge yesterday, but she's absorbed in her own thoughts anyway.

"But why the rug?" she asks, and I explain how we watched the movie together the day I met his parents. The memory brings a smile to my face.

"So have you spoken to him?" she wonders.

"I did earlier this week, but it was only through text," I confess. "I thanked him for the first gift. I've kind of avoided talking to him since then."

Rose studies me for a moment. "Do you not want to talk to him?"

"You know how I feel about this, Rose."

"Is that _really_ how you feel? Or is that just how you think you should feel?"

"How would _you_ feel?" I ask defensively.

"I'd be upset," she answers quickly. "And pissed. But I don't know. He had a decent reason, and while he should have handled his affairs in a more appropriate, mature manner, I don't think you can really fault him for making a mistake. It's not like he forced you or anything. And you were just as wrong as him because you knew about the whole thing and played into it anyway to get something _you_ wanted."

"Exactly. All we did was use each other," I say sourly.

"Yes, that's true. But you both learned from it and actually came to like each other despite the whole thing. It won't do you any good to hold a grudge, Bella. You both deserve a second chance. He's willing to give you one, so maybe you could consider doing the same. You know...start afresh."

I look at Rose, the fear and hesitancy written all over my face. I touch the rug, feeling the scratchy fabric beneath my fingers, and the course fibers give me comfort.

"You really think I should?" I wonder.

"Sure, Bella. Go out on a few dates with him. Get to know the _real _him and let him get to know the _real _you. And if you don't like where it's going or things still feel weird then...I dunno...you can dump his ass for real this time."

She smiles kindly, and I know it's to give me hope and assurance. I already feel as though a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

I hug Rose, taking her by surprise. I'm suddenly just so damn happy I can't contain myself.

I really love this bitch sometimes.

-o-o-o-o-

I get another gift the next day. It's delivered to my work in another fancy envelope, but, thankfully, Kate and Irina don't catch sight of it this time.

I open it under my desk, in secret, and I have to bit my lip to keep from laughing.

Inside is a polaroid picture of a headboard – a new headboard, judging from the poem written on the back. It's titled _Ode to a New Headboard._

_O, for a new headboard! Strong as steel,_

_of finest oaks and richest stains,_

_unbreakable as the boldest, widest tree_

_Alder, Beech, and yellow Birch!_

_O for a woodsman, to make the strongest board,_

_That I might sleep, and leave the world unseen,_

_And with thee fade away into these wondrous dreams_

I decide to take Rose's advice and at least speak to Edward. It's not as if I'll be signing a contract. I won't be committing some irreversible sin if I go on a date with him – I can always change my mind if things are strained or I don't trust his motives.

But my decision isn't wholly influenced by Rose. If anything, a conversation I have with Emmett is what really convinces me that I may be making the right choice.

Thanks to Rose's unstoppable mouth, he calls me the very next day.

"So I hear someone's gonna be having some hot makeup sex soon," he says joyously into the phone. I gasp loudly, unable to believe my ears.

"I am not! Did Rose say that?" I demand.

"Whoever said I was talking about you?"

"Then who are you talking about?"

"Just fucking with you, Bells. Of course I'm talking about you! Though you have to admit, you did sound a little guilty there. Got something you want to share with me?"

"Emmett!" I scowl. "I've got nothing to say to you. I swear, you and Rose gossip worse than a pair or old ladies."

"Hey, we're just keeping our friends on the right track," he says defensively. "So have you talked to him yet?"

"Why don't you ask him?" I sneer without thinking. I'm quick to correct myself. "No, wait – don't talk to him about me!"

"Me? Talk to Edward about you?" he asks innocently.

"Emmett, so help me God..."

"Keep your hair on, Bella. I haven't spoken to Edward about you all day."

I sigh. This man is impossible.

"Did you actually want something, Emmett?" I ask rudely. "I'm kind of busy."

I'm not really busy. I'm actually sitting around in my underwear, writing mindless stories on my laptop while indulging in a pint of Ben & Jerry's. But he doesn't know that.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I want to know why you haven't talked to him yet."

"Edward?"

"Who else?"

"I have my reasons," I reply haughtily.

I've actually decided to give myself about three more days before contacting him. That's three more days to think and assure myself that I'm making the right decision in pursuing this...whatever this is.

I still haven't thanked him for any of the gifts. I'm aware that it's probably coming off as a bit bitchy, but in this state of mind one harmless text would probably lead to some not-so-harmless texts, which would probably lead to me inviting him over or agreeing to meet him somewhere. And that would destroy my three day plan.

I'm so weak. Which is why I sit here, alone, dwelling in my little rabbit hole with chocolate and make-believe stories. Nothing can harm me here.

"I see," he says thoughtfully, though I can only imagine what he's thinking right now.

"What's it to you?"

"So are you still planning on talking to him?" he asks, completely ignoring my question.

"I just...I mean...yes, I think so. Do you think I should? You know him better than me..."

"Bella, I have like...well...about fifty words for you," he says, causing me to laugh. "But yes, I think you should. Edward's a good guy despite that shit. I haven't seen him actually care about a girl in God knows how long. He wouldn't be sending you all this wacko shit if he wasn't trying to get your attention. He either wants you to tell him to go to hell or else call him and try to play nice."

"Was all that stuff your idea?" I wonder, suddenly suspicious.

"Ppffttt. Are you kidding me? A rug, Bella? Seriously?"

I laugh. I secretly love my rug. And my fat cat. And I'm sure one day I'll love being able to drive a scooter down the marina without nearly dying.

"I like my rug," I say quietly.

"Exactly. Which is why you should call him. Seriously, Bella. He's been a mess obsessing over this."

"Why? Why does he even like me?" I ask seriously. "I lied to him."

"Why do you like him? Cause he lied to _you_," he points out.

"That's a good question," I muse jokingly. Okay, so I'm kind of serious.

"Just do it, Bella. That's my advice. I agree with Rose. And like she said, nothing is set in stone. You're just giving each other a second chance to see where it goes."

I hesitate.

"If you didn't like him, I totally wouldn't be pushing this," Emmett goes on. "But Jesus H. Christ, I can only watch you two mope about each other for so long before I go insane. Like Amy Fisher crazy, okay? It's just not right. For the love of God, put me out of my misery. Please."

It is this conversation that gives me the courage to send the text.

I'm a nervous wreck as I hit send. I'm too scared to call him – I feel too awkward and uncertain of what he'll say and how I'll react. I know it seems senseless, but I feel safer starting out small.

_Thank you for the gifts. They were...unique._ - _B_

I walk around my apartment and fidget with my phone, wondering if my text could be misconstrued somehow. But it seems to the point. Right? I just don't know anymore.

I'm such a jumble of nerves that when he texts back, I jump nearly a foot into the air.

_You're welcome, Bella. I hope you didn't find any of them offensive. I just wanted to make you smile. - E_

I sense an uneasiness even in his printed words. Could he be feeling just as nervous as I am?

_Well, mission accomplished. Thank you. - B_

I leave it at that, figuring I'm leaving him with the upper hand and being polite to boot. He can either continue our conversation or we can end this torrid little game once and for all.

My heart suddenly beats wildly. I hope he chooses the former – why in hell would I leave it up to him? But it's not as if I want to pursue something he doesn't find worth pursuing. Perhaps he sent me all those gifts because he felt bad about the bet.

But Emmett and Alice said he likes me and they're his best friend and sister. Surely that counts for something.

It feels like I wait an eternity for his response, though it's probably only about thirty seconds. But it's thirty seconds of pure agony.

_How are you? - E_

I breathe a sigh of relief. My heart rate slows.

_I'm okay. How are you? - B_

_I've been better. Work has been keeping me pretty busy. - E_

_Alice called me the other day. - B_

_I hope she wasn't bothering you. What did she say? - E_

_Nothing I didn't expect. She is never a bother to me. - B_

_Good. I don't want you to be burdened by this whole mess. - E_

_You mean like getting random strange gifts everyday that cause ppl to ask weird questions? - B_

_I'll stop if it's bothering you. That's not what I was trying to do. - E_

I don't want to tell him to stop, but I don't want to tell him _not _to stop, either. I change the subject.

_My conversation with Alice actually went pretty well. She really loves you, you know. She knows how lucky she is to have you as a brother. - B_

_Thank you, Bella. That means a lot to me. - E_

_It's the truth. - B_

_I'm sorry you went to the wedding alone. I really wanted to take you. - E_

_It doesn't matter anymore. I don't care about going alone. - B_

_You should never have to be alone. You deserve someone who will worship you day and night. Someone who will never lie to you and who will treat you like the special person you are. - E_

_That's sweet of you, Edward. But things aren't that simple. - B_

_Why not? - E_

_Because there has to be a special person out there who loves me that much. - B_

I wait several minutes, but his response doesn't come. It's a bit disheartening.

Five minutes later, there's a knock at the door. My stomach flips in excitement as I rush to answer, but I assure myself it's probably only Rose or the UPS man with another strange delivery.

But I swing the door open, and there stands Edward in all his wild-haired, bright-eyed, mistake-making glory. I grip the door frame for fear of launching myself at him. It's been far too long since I've seen his beautiful face.

He fidgets with his phone nervously before finally sliding it into his pocket. His eyes never leave mine, and for a second all we do is stare.

"There is someone like that, Bella," he says, causing my heart to swell. I bite my lip anxiously. "Can we talk?"

* * *

A/N: Progress, people. Progress. Next chapter we'll get more EPOV.

Passionmama preread for me and helped make it so much better than what it would have been. Big big thanks to her. And ms_ambrosia beta'd this on the fly so that I could get it out today. I don't know what I'd do without these two.

I'm sad to say that I'll no longer be updating on Thursdays. I have to be realistic, and my schedule simply doesn't allow it. I'm going to write the chapters, send them to ms_ambrosia, and when they're done, I'll post them. I work full-time and go to school full-time. I stressed way too much last semester trying to get these chapters out every week. To be honest, it was starting to feel like a job in which I was struggling to meet deadlines. Rushed chapters from a stressed mind = sucky chapters. I Hope you guys understand.

I still haven't outlined the remaining story (apparently I'm more of a write as I go type of author. I've tried to outline but I end up changing everything once I write it) but I think it'll probably be around 35 chapters, give or take one or two.

You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for updates and teasers. Sorry I was teaser fail this week, but I was struggling to get the chapter out on time.

There definitely won't be an update next week, because I'll be in Tennessee enjoying the mountains. I'll get it out as soon as I can. Since I'm going to take longer, I've decided to rec some fics I'm loving.

The first is **The Hotel Meyer** by katkennedy. Seriously one of my fav fics out there. I fangirl her on twitter all the time. The plot? - With their inheritance on the line, lifelong enemies Bella and Edward are forced to live and work together for the sake of family, business, and the ultimate goal: money. As the battle for control and power heats up - so do they. Snarky Bella and Edward and lots of hotness. Do yourself a favor and check it out.

The next is **blossom** by ms-ambrosia. Am I just biased because she's my super-awesome beta? Absolutely not. It actually took me forever to finally read it, as it's already on chapter 19. But blossom is a wonderful story about Bella and how she comes to terms with adulthood as she grows and matures. It reads like a great novel to me with characters I can actually relate to. It's an E and B story eventually, it just takes a few chapters to get there. But it's worth the wait and the chapters leading up to it are very enjoyable and extremely well-written. Definitely one of my favorites.

Check out my fav section for the links. There are also some other great stories listed there.

Sorry for the long ass A/N. See ya next time!


	29. Chapter 29

Quick A/N: I forgot to mention this last chapter, but the lyrics used during EPOV were from Jimi Hendrix's song _Love or Confusion_. My bad. And I take full blame for that ridiculous cringe-worthy poem about Edward's headboard, but the original poem that I used and butchered was _Ode to a Nightingale _by John Keats.

Now on with the show!

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 29

EPOV

The entire week is pure hell.

I'm fortunate enough to be preoccupied with work for a day or so, but that isn't enough to keep this girl from my mind. I think about her constantly. Even when trying to focus my energy on something else, my thoughts always seem to drift back to the same place – the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin and lips, the way her brown eyes seem to shine when she's happy. She even has a tiny cow-lick in her left eyebrow – an insignificant thing, to be sure – but even that tiny feature has haunted me in her absence.

I'm consumed. Utterly, pathetically, painfully consumed.

I try calling Alice, but the first time she doesn't answer. When she finally calls me back, she's in such a rush that I'm not able to reveal the shit-storm that has taken place in my life this past week.

"Oh, Edward! It's good to hear from you!" she says.

"You too, Alice. Do you have a second to talk?"

"Oh, I wish I did, but I'm already fifteen minutes late to meet Jasper and some friends for drinks. Can I call you when we're finished?"

What choice did I really have? I wasn't about to spoil her night.

"Sure, Alice. Just don't forget, okay?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Edward. Of course I won't."

But she doesn't call me back.

The next morning, she leaves what sounds like a very painful, hung-over message on my voice mail while I'm in a meeting. It's from Jasper's number. She says something along the lines of "fucking Screwdrivers" and "stupid bathroom stalls with broken locks" and "straight from my back pocket into the toilet." She then moans a bit about having to stick her hand in toilet water to retrieve her cell phone – they wouldn't allow Jasper to come into the ladies' restroom, apparently – before promising to call as soon as she has purchased a new one.

I feel antsy at work. It's a slow day; I take my lunch break early and decide to leave the office rather than have my assistant pick something up. There's a deli downtown, so I drive nearby and park, hoping the short walk and time spent outside will help clear my head.

While passing a small boutique, something catches my eye. In the window, on display among various plus-sized women's clothing, is a fat, stuffed, black and white cat with its pudgy arms sticking out at its sides. It's not identical to Ursula, but the resemblance is still uncanny.

Emmett had reluctantly revealed the true origin of Ursula the night I left Rose's place. That part didn't really surprise me; Emmett's involvement in the entire affair did.

"You knew?" I had hissed at him. "And you _helped _her?"

"Dude, I already told you before. Rose and I tell each other everything. If she knows, then I know."

"You didn't have to encourage her, though!" I'd said angrily. "You practically handed her the ammunition."

He thought about this for a second. "Yeah, I guess I kind of did," he agreed, shamelessly.

By that time, I was emotionally spent and no longer had the energy to argue.

"Whatever, man. I hope it was worth it." I shook my head and turned to walk away, but he quickly grabbed my shoulder and spun me back around.

"You've always gone through women like they mean nothing," he said seriously. "Consider this a friendly intervention."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Em. I've never blatantly disrespected women."

Well, except with Bella. But I didn't say this.

"Oh? So the women from the bars that you've fucked...what do you call that?"

"It doesn't happen that often _and_ it's their idea! The redhead invited me back to her place. She was practically trying to give me a hand job in the middle of the club. You can't tell me that girls who sleep with strange men after knowing them a half hour are expecting flowers and marriage proposals. They know what they're getting themselves into, Emmett."

This is true. I've slept with Lauren plenty of times, but random women – women whose names I can't remember – are few and far between. But I can't lie and say I've never done asinine things while drunk. That's so far from the truth that the mere idea is comical.

Emmett huffed. "Yeah, but still."

The argument ended, and after that night we proceeded to carry on as if nothing had ever happened between us.

Now, I stand staring at the fat cat for what feels like ages. I'm pretty sure Ursula did more damage to Bella's emotional well-being than she ever did to mine. But Bella never tried to bring her to my place, and for that reason I dare to hope that maybe she was beginning to feel some remorse for her actions. Maybe she knew that we had both taken this nonsense too far.

I enter the boutique. A tiny bell jingles from the door handle, alerting several women to my presence. I'm the only man in the store and I instantly feel out of place.

"May I help you?" a saleswoman asks. She eyes my work clothes – a buttoned, fitted shirt with slacks and a tie – and I'm sure she assumes I'm a man with money shopping for someone else. Which is true.

"Yes, I want to buy the cat in the window," I say, already fishing out my wallet from my back pocket. She looks confused.

"The cat?"

"Please."

"That's a display item, Sir," she says patiently. She gives me a small smile. "It's not for sale. We sell clothes and accessories here. Perhaps I can interest you in something else?"

_Jesus Christ_. I really don't have much time to argue about this if I want to make it to Bella's office before the end of her lunch.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars for it," I say briskly.

"Sir-"

"Two-hundred."

"But Sir-"

"Four-hundred dollars," I say impatiently, slipping four bills from my wallet and holding them out to her. Her eyes glaze over for a second before she takes them.

"Alright, Sir. It's yours. Have a good day."

I grab the cat on the way out. It's an ugly little thing, its beady eyes protruding from its overly stuffed face, but I don't consider any of the money to be wasted. I buy a card from a Hallmark store across the street and race to Seattle with my new purchases.

She's not there when I arrive. I'm simultaneously disappointed and relieved, but her absence grants me an opportunity to leave the cat while still, hopefully, giving her the space she requests.

Bella sends me a text that night to thank me for the cat. Every word from her sends my adrenaline racing; I stare at each message, hoping and praying that the next will be the defining statement. I irrationally hope that she will forgive me – or at least try – and will possibly hint at wanting to see me again in the future.

But this doesn't happen. She requests more time, more space, which has me groaning into the silence of my living room.

Time is obviously what she needs, and I find myself willing to wait a thousand lifetimes for her forgiveness. And this realization – the simple fact that I'm suddenly putting so much thought and care and persistence into one person – is terrifying in the most gratifying of ways, and I decide I wouldn't give it up for the world.

It's been so long since I've felt this way. It's horrifying and fantastic, comforting and torturous. I want to rip my hair out and beg for forgiveness and – admittedly – see Bella naked all at the same time. I can't make sense of the swarm of overwhelming emotions.

I decide to give Bella her space. Perhaps it's what she really needs. Perhaps I'm driving her further away when I bother her.

I don't doubt this conclusion until Alice calls me.

It's early in the evening and I've just gotten home, having avoided another call from Lauren and the subsequent guilt-trip I would have received for abruptly ending our contact. When I answer, Alice instantly begins raving about her new phone.

"You should _see _it, Edward! It's a touch screen and has a qwerty keyboard and I can listen to music on it and check my mail – even my _school_ mail – and I can get on Facebook and Youtube and manage my bank account and do pretty much anything else I feel like!"

A bought of static interferes with her words. "I can't hear you well, Alice," I say.

"Yeah, I had to swap to a different provider to get the phone," she says, a slight hint of disdain to her voice. "The service is kind of crappy here. Hold on, I'll go stand by the window."

"I see," I say thoughtfully. This light conversation has offered a welcome distraction, putting me more at ease as I anticipate the grueling conversation to come. "So basically you can do everything on it except actually call people?"

"I can call people!" she exclaims with a huff. "I called you, didn't I? And I get better service outside."

"Right," I say teasingly. She huffs again and I picture her rolling her eyes.

"So what's up?" she asks conversationally, moving the discussion along. My heart rate increases at just the mere thought of what I'm going to say. Without waiting for me to answer, she adds, "How's Bella?"

It's as though my heart has plummeted right to the bottom of my stomach. I hate that I'm going to have to bring this news.

"We're not seeing each other anymore," I finally answer. The words are cautious, fearful of an impending explosion.

But she's silent. I begin to worry, but finally she says, very slowly, "Uh huh. Why?"

Her tone is incredulous and accusing. She already blames me.

"It's a long story," I say with a sigh. "But it actually has a lot to do with you. I need to talk to you about some things."

"It has a lot to do with me?" she squeaks. "All I ever did was say how great she was! There's no way you can blame me for this! What did you do, Edward Anthony Masen!"

I cringe at the sudden, static-y rise of her voice, not to mention her use of my former surname.

I figure it's best to just purge myself of this information all at once. Before I can dwell on the repercussions of what I'm about to say, I begin relaying the story, all from the beginning, and include every tiny, sordid detail. I ignore her gasps of surprise and little exclamations in between; I ignore the silence from her end when I reveal that Bella knew about the bet the entire time.

I ignore it all, because otherwise, I won't be able to finish.

When I'm done, I allow a silence to hang in the wake of my confession. I can hear little particles of static that indicate she hasn't hung up, but I'm otherwise at a loss.

I imagine she's wondering where to begin. The bet? The wager? My interaction with James? Bella's knowledge? It feels like a lifetime has passed before I finally lose my nerve and break the silence.

"Alice? Are you okay?"

"I…" She hesitates. "No, I'm not okay," she finally says. "Why would you do that, Edward?"

I groan. "I don't know."

"I mean, I guess I understand _why_ you did it," she goes on, as if I hadn't spoken. "I mean, it really means a lot to me that you care so much. And that you want to help Jasper. But why would you bet your company? You and Carlisle built that company from the ground up. I know it would have crushed the both of you to see it go to a skeeze-bag like James. It would have crushed _me_."

She's right. I don't even have to agree, because the truth in her words is so glaringly obvious.

"And Bella? She didn't deserve any of that," she says sadly. "She's a really nice person. And I just…I had this _feeling_ about the two of you. I know you always think I'm crazy, but my feelings are always right. They just are. But this is just…I don't know…it's so messed up!"

She seems genuinely upset about this. Though I don't reveal this, her emotions are actually an exact mirror image of my own.

Had Bella and I met under different circumstances, things would have just been...right. Things would have been normal, and perhaps she would be here with me tonight rather than demanding time and space and likely never wanting to see me again.

But would I have given her an opportunity to get this close without the bet? I would have pushed her away at the very first inkling of attachment I felt, scared and without an ulterior motive to keep her around. And would we have even met? I never approach women in bars; I have a few drinks and women normally sidle up next to me for small talk and flirtation. I highly doubt Bella would have been one of those women.

"I know it is," I say morosely. "I'm sorry. I really liked Bella, too."

"You did?" she asks hopefully.

"Yes," I say, hoping to pour every ounce of honesty I can into that one word. "I like her a lot, Alice. I haven't stopped thinking about her since all of this has gone down. She consumes me. I can't take it anymore."

Spilling my guts to my sister – to the one person who truly understands me and won't judge – actually feels good.

"Then why are you apologizing to me? You need to talk to Bella!"

"I've tried, Alice. She doesn't want to hear it anymore. She wants space."

Alice gasps. For a moment, I wonder if I've said something wrong.

"Are you giving her space?" she inquires. I'm relieved that I may actually be doing something right.

"Yes, yes. Of course," I quickly assure her.

"No!" she exclaims, causing me to jump in surprise. "She doesn't want space! God, men are _so dense_!"

I'm alarmed at her sudden outburst. "What are you talking about?"

"What have you done for her? Flowers? Card? Poems? Carved an ice statue commemorating your love?"

Now I'm very confused. "I sent her flowers," I say, my voice somewhat defensive. "But that was before she talked to me. And when we talked, I promised her I'd leave her alone if she wanted me to – that all I wanted was to explain myself."

"You haven't sent her _anything_ since then?" she asks, appalled.

"I, uh…I took a stuffed cat and put it on her desk at work yesterday. She wasn't there."

As I say it out loud, I realize my one little attempt at contact was actually kind of pathetic. In fact, it's probable she didn't even like the cat – it _was_ kind of ugly. And then a horrifying thought crosses my mind.

_Dear God, I hope I didn't offend her!_

Before I can voice any of my fears, Alice asks, "A cat? Why a cat?"

"Oh, um…she babysat a cat for a friend of Emmett. It just made me think of her. It was probably a stupid idea—"

Alice interrupts my rambling.

"No, no. I like that. You're right, it is thoughtful. You need to send her more stuff."

I still don't understand. "Are you sure about this? She said she needed space…"

"If you give her space she's going to think you don't care! You don't want her to think that, do you?"

"No…"

"Alright, so just listen to me. You need to keep it thoughtful. Girls like that. So tell me something about her."

_Crap_. I suddenly can't think of a thing. It's as if my whole brain is seizing in horror at being put on the spot.

Then a thought occurs to me.

"She likes the movie _The Big Lebowski_."

"Perfect! Get her something to do with the movie. Maybe a soundtrack CD if it has good music or an autographed picture from one of the actors. What else you got?"

"Umm…she made me Tiramisu once."

"God, I _love_ Tiramisu!" she gushes in excitement. "You should have some sent to her work during her lunch break! And send me some too while you're at it!"

I chuckle, feeling lighter than I have in days. Prior to talking to Alice, the heavy weight on my shoulders had been crushing. Now it's manageable, and perhaps, in a perfect world, Alice's plan will work and I'll be free of it completely.

I start the very next day. I begin small, choosing something simple. I have my assistant deliver a scooter lesson gift certificate to her office and pray that she will see the humor in the gift.

For lunch, I have Tiramisu catered to her work.

She doesn't contact me. I have no indication that she's received the gifts at all, despite Jane's hurried assurance that she placed the gift certificate on her desk herself.

The next day, I have all five Lost season DVD's delivered to her apartment, unable to remember which ones she already owns, and I also send a Grease soundtrack CD. I refrain from delivering them myself, wanting to give Bella the option of making the first contact.

If she ever chooses to do so, that is, because I get nothing from her once again.

On Wednesday, I receive a confirmation that _The Big Lebowski_ rug replica was delivered to her apartment and signed for. I receive comfort from the fact that she is, indeed, receiving my gifts, but the fact that she isn't contacting me to acknowledge them is disheartening.

On Thursday, I leave work early with another gift in mind. I take a Polaroid picture of my replacement headboard and write a ridiculous poem on the back – hopefully something to get her attention and make her smile. I deliver it to her office myself and ask the secretary to carry it to her desk.

I head back to my home in Olympia when I'm done. I'm disconcerted by the fact that I'm running out of thoughtful gift ideas, but I try not to dwell on it at the moment. I just need to clear my head for a bit. I need to decompress after the emotional toll that this entire week has offered.

The next day, after work, I head over to my home in Seattle, debating the entire while on whether to just show up at her apartment and demand that she acknowledge my efforts. It seems desperate and needy and something that will likely push her further away, yet Alice insisted that girls are more apt to that kind of persistence.

"That kind of attention is romantic," she'd said to me.

I juggle through my reasoning with my keys in my hand, on the verge of leaving at any second. But the thought alone makes me nervous. I'm still just not sure.

_Perhaps I should stop over thinking things._

My phone beeps as I'm heading out the door and I pause on the porch to check my message.

_Thank you for the gifts. They were…unique. – B_

My insides clench. This is what I'd been hoping for all week, and now I'm terrified that it's all I'll get.

_You're welcome, Bella. I hope you didn't find any of them offensive. I just wanted to make you smile. – E_

I feel ridiculous as soon as I send the message. I've finally received an excuse to talk to her and this isn't what I wanted to say.

_Well, mission accomplished. Thank you. – B_

And I smile, taking much relief in knowing that I made _her_ smile.

_How are you? – E_

I'm feeling brave; I'm not ready for our conversation to end. Without thinking more about it, I jump into my car and speed out of the driveway, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when Bella answers my text without blowing me off.

We begin texting back and forth. I reply at red lights and stop signs and even type one awkward response while still driving. I know it's dangerous - and not something I usually do - but I'm unable to stay away either in person or through words.

As I near her apartment, our conversation becomes more intimate. I pray that she's home.

_I'm sorry you went to the wedding alone. I really wanted to take you. – E_

_It doesn't matter anymore. I don't care about going alone. – B_

_You should never have to be alone. You deserve someone who will worship you day and night. Someone who will never lie to you and who will treat you like the special person you are. – E_

_That's sweet of you, Edward. But things aren't that simple. – B_

_Why not? – E_

_Because there has to be a special person out there who loves me that much. - B_

Her assessment is nearly laughable. There's no one out there who thinks she's special? No one who loves her? I want to be this person for her so badly that it's terrifying, but I move forward, unable to stop this force that's leading me to her home. To _her_. She has woken feelings inside that I haven't felt for ages. Just the thought of her leaves me feeling reborn, like a completely different person altogether.

From this moment forward, no one will ever work harder to deserve her than I will.

It seems like only seconds have passed before I'm standing in front of her door. My palms are sweaty, my breaths shallow. I know that she's home because I saw her car outside, but it does nothing to quell the growing panic I'm beginning to feel.

I take a few deep breaths in an effort to calm myself. When I think I'm as composed as I'm ever going to be, I knock on her door.

Only a few seconds pass before I hear hurried footsteps from within. For one short moment, I fear that she'll see me through the peephole and demand that I leave.

But the fear is short-lived when the door is quickly swung open.

Bella stands there, wide-eyed, and slowly bites her lip as she assesses me. She looks more surprised than angry, which gives me an inkling of hope.

We look at each other for a moment. I know I need to speak, but I'm admittedly scared shitless. Finally, I slide my phone into my pocket and begin.

"There is someone like that, Bella," I finally say. She swallows, her eyes never leaving mine. "Can we talk?"

Slowly nodding, she moves aside so that I can enter.

I hold back a sigh of relief as I step inside, instantly taking sight of her kitchen. It's full of vases upon vases of dead flowers, causing it to resemble a Tales of the Crypt dinner party. Bella follows my gaze and blushes furiously.

"You should have said you were coming over," she admonishes. "I was gonna throw those out, I just haven't been home much lately."

I look at her – finally _look _at her – and take in her messy hair, her pink, bare cheeks, and the oversized Superman t-shirt that falls to her mid-thigh. I can see her nipples through her shirt and I'm almost positive she's not wearing a bra.

She's absolutely fucking gorgeous this way.

My pants suddenly tighten and I divert my gaze, desperately trying to fight off these lustful feelings I have for the woman before me. I can't believe how inappropriate I'm being and silently curse my tactless dick.

But once again, Bella has followed my gaze. She looks down and then her eyes instantly snap back to mine.

"Um, I'm just gonna…hold on…_crap_." She scurries into her bedroom and out of sight, leaving me alone near the front door. I take the opportunity to gather my wits and adjust myself.

She emerges a few minutes later in a pair of pajama pants. They're not nearly as sexy as seeing her bare legs, but this is beneficial if we're going to have a serious conversation. I'm also pretty certain she's put on a bra, which is kind of disappointing.

She stands nervously before me, a few feet away, and still seems embarrassed.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I was a little distracted by…I just…nevermind."

I've never felt such an attraction to a woman before in my life. Reeling in this desire, I shake my head and give a kind smile.

"Don't worry about it, Bella."

She nods quickly, effectively eliminating any further discussion of this topic.

"Um, do you want a drink or something?" she offers.

"I'm fine."

"Want to sit down?"

I look at her living room. The rug is nowhere to be seen and I frown as I wonder if she's thrown it out.

"Sure," I finally say, feeling much less confident than before. Not that I was feeling wholly self-assured to begin with.

She sits down first and I take the other end of the sofa, not wanting to impose on her personal space. I lean forward and wring my hands together, noting the dampness that won't seem to go away.

I'm so fucking nervous. Bella doesn't seem much better off, but for some reason I take this as an ominous sign. A slow breath wavers as it leaves her body.

"So," she begins, apparently eager to get the conversation going. "What did you want to talk about?"

She looks down at her hands as she speaks, picking and fidgeting with everything and nothing.

I sigh, running a frustrated hand through my hair. I don't have a clue what to say or where to begin. But she stares at me, her eyes pressuring, waiting for me to get it all out. And I would never, ever let this opportunity pass me by.

"I want to talk about us," I finally begin.

"Us?" Her response is weak, and I know what she's thinking – there is no _us_.

There never was. Not really.

I rub my face with both hands, hoping to wipe away some of this nervousness and confusion. But all I succeed in doing is smearing palm sweat across my brow.

"Yes, us," I go on. "I want there to be an _us_. I like you, Bella. I care about you. I never stop thinking of you. I know our situation was messed up, but I really like the person I came to know the past two weeks. You made me laugh, you made me anxious as hell, and you made me…I don't know…_different_. And I like the person I am because of you."

Bella doesn't look at me. She stares straight ahead, her brow creased with anxiety, her eyes shining. Her hands wring fretfully in her lap.

"Now that the bet is over and done with, I just want…I don't know. I want to start over. I want to get to know the _real_ you, not just what you chose to tell me because you didn't trust me.

"I _want_ you to trust me. I want the opportunity to earn your trust, and I want to deserve it. I guess what I'm saying is…I want to try again."

She turns to look at me, honest to God tears welling in her eyes. I want to reach over and wipe them away, but I don't dare.

"I like you, too," she finally whispers, and I feel like I'm soaring. I can't stop the ridiculous grin that spreads across my face; this is suddenly the lightest I've felt in days.

"But," she goes on, and I feel my hopes sink again just as quickly. I dread hearing her next words. "Do you really think it's a good idea? The entire time we've known each other – it's just been lies! And what I did to you…how can you even still like me?"

She looks at me, hopeless and confused.

"You're right, it was a rough start," I agree. "But as for why I like you? You're smart, beautiful, and funny. You stood up for yourself. You make a to-die for Tiramisu," I joke, hoping to lighten the situation some.

She snorts at this, which sounds kind of choked up from all the wetness, so I ignore her reaction and quickly move on.

"You don't care what people think about you and you get along with my best friend," I say. "Plus you gave me a reason to get a new headboard, which I'd been meaning to do for forever now anyway."

She averts her eyes, looking ashamed, and I'm instantly sorry for making such a lame joke.

"No, Bella! I'm sorry. Look at me." I instinctively put my hand on her cheek, turning her head so she'll meet my gaze again, and I'm surprised when she doesn't shove me away.

"I shouldn't have said that," I quickly apologize.

She shakes her head. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who did it. I'm…I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," I say quickly. "It's over. Done. Water under the bridge. It's like it never happened – I don't care if we never talk about it ever again. Or we can if you want to," I'm quick to add.

She smiles weakly at me and then leans over to get a tissue from her end table. She begins drying her face and wiping her nose.

"Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me for making the bet?" I ask nervously. A part of me doesn't want to hear the answer, too terrified as to what it'll reveal.

But she looks at me, her brown, wide eyes showing nothing but complete honesty.

"I already have."

And I'm soaring again, even more elated than before. Our conversation is going not as I'd expected, but every way that I had hoped.

"But I'm just worried, Edward," she quickly adds. "I _want _to trust you…"

"You can, Bella! I swear to you on _everything _that I'm not going to make that mistake again. _Let me prove it to you_."

She sniffles, and I can tell that she's not convinced.

"Ask me anything," I say. "Anything at all. And I'll tell you whatever you want to know. No lies, no secrets. Just you and I trusting each other."

I'm five seconds away from dropping to my knees and groveling. Bella doesn't say anything. Instead, she looks torn.

_"Please_, Bella. Please believe me. I'll never be a part of any kind of fuckery like this ever again. I just want a chance to start over and prove this to you."

"Then tell me something about yourself," she prompts. Looking guilty, she adds, "I don't know what to ask."

Thinking quickly, I scramble for something halfway decent to say.

"I played baseball in high school," I tell her, unable to think of anything better. "Someone bunted the ball while I was behind them and it came back and nailed me in the face. It knocked out two teeth, so two of my teeth aren't real."

She sighs and looks down at her hands again.

_Fuck. I knew the teeth thing was stupid_, I mentally chastise. But then she surprises me.

"What happened to your parents?" Her voice is quiet, cautious; almost immediately, her panicked eyes dart up to meet mine.

I take a deep breath. I didn't anticipate having to speak of this tonight, but I can't fault her for wanting to know. How can I expect her to trust me if I continue to guard parts of my life from her?

It hurts to think about, but I would take any amount of pain, emotional or physical, if it only means Bella will give me the second chance I so desperately seek.

"They're dead, Bella. My…my mom was murdered. My dad died of health problems."

I remain as detached as possible, not wanting this to become anything other than winning Bella back. She picks at her shirt, at a part of the Superman logo that is peeling away, and nods.

I'm not sure is she wants me to elaborate. I mentally quarrel with myself, trying to decide if I want to delve into this story now. I definitely will if it's what she wants, but I don't want to put myself in the situation without being certain.

But she finally puts me out of my misery.

"You don't have to talk to me about it now, Edward. I know it's hard for you. But some day, if there really is an…_us_…then I'd really like to know everything about you. But I'd like to earn that, too."

She looks shyly at me, her brow creased in worry as though afraid she's said something offensive. But her words couldn't possibly make me happier.

"Absolutely, Bella," I agree. "I promise. Anything you want to know."

She smiles, her face actually dry, and I'm so relieved I could sing.

Feeling lighter than I have in ages, I seek confirmation in her words. "So you'll give us a chance?"

She nods, biting her lip to hide her own smile. "I'd like that," she says. "_But_, I really think we should start out slow. You know, to try and do things…right."

I nod quickly, willing to agree to anything at this point. "Whatever you want."

Seconds pass. I'm not really sure what to say now. After the enormity of the conversation we just had, I don't feel like a joke or another deep discussion is appropriate.

I finally glance at the clock and decide it might be time for her to get some rest. I don't want to overstay my welcome, especially since she is insisting on taking things slow.

I rub my hands against my pants, the clamminess finally disappearing, and ask, "So would you mind if I call you tomorrow?"

She smiles. "Of course not, Edward."

I stand, preparing to make my leave. Bella looks as if she wants to join me, so I extend my hand and help her up.

"I should probably get going," I say, looking down at her. A strand of hair falls into her face and I want to push it away, to touch her anyway I can, but I'm terrified that I may be over-stepping my boundaries. I've been given a gift and I don't want to mess things up.

She nods solemnly. I can tell she's not pleased, yet she doesn't ask me to stay.

She follows me to the door. I think of a dozen ways to leave her – a simple goodbye, a kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the lips, a hug. All of these things seem appropriate and yet simultaneously offensive, leaving me confused and wary before her door.

I clear my throat; the noise sounds strained in the silence.

"Thank you for talking to me, Bella," I say sincerely.

She wipes her nose one last time and smiles up at me.

"Thank you for…you know…making the effort," she replies.

_So Alice was right._

"You're worth it," I assure her. As I turn to leave, she suddenly touches my shoulder, stopping me.

"So we can really do anything I want, huh?" she asks, her voice teasing but shy. It instantly piques my interest.

"Anything," I breathe.

She chews her bottom lip. "A goodnight kiss?"

Someone is definitely on my side tonight. But is this really taking things slow? And do I care?

Of course not. That was her rule, not mine.

I lean down to press my lips softly against hers, not sure what she really expects from a "goodbye kiss". But that one soft kiss leads to another, then another, and suddenly her tongue is in my mouth and her fingers in my hair, pulling and tugging with reckless abandon as every bit of pent up frustration and longing is released into this single act.

When we pull apart she gently pushes me out the door, giving me one more light peck on the lips in farewell. I'm left standing there alone, tugging my hair in pure wonder. I hate the thought of leaving, but I've already achieved so much in this one night that I feel it's best to go home now and count my blessings.

But halfway down the stairs, I can no longer resist. I take the steps two at a time and rush back to her apartment, knocking loudly and impatiently.

She opens the door, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"What's wrong?" she asks, worried.

"Nothing, nothing," I say quickly, hoping to assuage her fears. "It's just…I haven't had dinner yet and was wondering if…you know…you might want to join me?"

She opens the door a little wider and leans against the frame. "You mean like a date?"

"Well, yeah," I say. "If you want it to be. Or it could just be two people eating together."

_Whatever you want, so long as you're with me._

She touches her messy hair and seems to contemplate this.

"I'm a mess," she says in exasperation. "Do you really want to go out with me right now?"

"Bella, I don't think you've ever looked so fucking beautiful in your entire life. _Of course_ I want to go out with you."

Her face comes to life with one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen.

"Alright," she finally agrees, already heading for her bedroom. I spy her bare legs and marvel at the fact that I was only gone about thirty seconds, yet she still found time to shed her pajama bottoms again. Her voice carries from her bedroom as she adds, "But I at least have to put on some pants."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you thank you thank you for all your support regarding my update schedule. I can't tell you what a huge stress reliever it was not trying to meet a deadline this chapter.**

**Big thanks to ms-ambrosia for betaing, passionmama for pre-reading and helping with the plot holes and such, and Heathers Twilight for her constant support and love of this fic since the very very beginning. **

**A few qiuck fic rec's this time: **The University of Edward Masen **by **Sebastien Robichaud. **I didn't plan to rec fics that already have a bazillion reviews, but if you're not already reading this fic, I highly recommend you jump on the bandwagon and give it a shot. It absolutely owns me. **

Bad Fauxmance** by **stella luna sky**. Three things...Pretend Gayward + Gay Emmett + Man-Hating Bella = some hilarious mofo shit. A must read if you need a laugh.**

Same Time Next Year **by **socact**. This fic was just heartbreakingly beautiful to me. It's kind of short, so you can probably finish it in one night, and it's COMPLETE!**

**All links are on my profile. You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1. I hand out cookies and teasers and fart jokes. Well maybe just teasers.**

**Until next time... - mybluesky**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Nadstar3...I tried to answer your question, but you have PM's blocked. But right now I'm thinking a few months, maybe, or a little longer.**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 30

BPOV

I'm a complete mess. My hair is nappy, my shirt is wrinkled, and my face is flushed and probably looks terrible from crying. But as I snatch on a pair of jeans in record time, I realize that I couldn't possibly care less.

Edward thinks I'm beautiful. _Me_. And he wants to do this over, despite his commitment issues and previous reservations. _Because I'm worth it._

I look a mess, but he's willing to be seen in public with me anyway. I'm not sure, but I think that speaks volumes regarding his feelings for me. The thought leaves me smiling as I meet him in the living room again, exactly where I left him.

The walk down the stairs is silent. He opens the door to his car and helps me inside, then quickly hurries to the driver's side to join me.

I still can't stop smiling.

Apparently, neither can he.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask.

"Somewhere quiet," he answers. "Where we can talk some more." He glances at me. "Is that okay?"

I nod quickly. I don't really care where we eat, so long as I have his company.

"Do you like oysters?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Crab legs?"

"Yes."

He pulls out his phone and makes a phone call. He places a food order, which leaves me confused. Does he want it to be ready when we get there? Will we even be eating there?

"What was that about?" I ask, my voice tentative. I'm nervous – an excited nervous which leaves my hands clammy and my thoughts racing. I think over everything in my head about two or three times before actually saying it.

"I thought we could get it to go. I have a place in mind…is that alright?"

He's obviously as nervous as I am, and that thought alone puts me at ease. I smile reassuringly.

"It's fine, Edward. I was just curious."

The rest of the drive is relatively silent. Soft music plays from his stereo, but I don't think either one of us is actually listening, both of us too absorbed in our thoughts. When we reach the restaurant he asks me to wait in the car while he dashes inside for the food.

With the food tucked safely in the back, we continue driving. I still have no idea where we're going, but I'm excited at all the prospects. Not knowing is kind of thrilling.

We reach the Bell Harbor Marina. Edward drives around for a bit before parking and pulling the food from the back. I step out of the car to follow him, and together we walk down the harbor.

The marina is beautiful at night. Most of the boats are vacant and dim, but the city of Seattle is lit up brilliantly in the background, its magnificent lights reflecting off the water. The sky still holds a slight orange tinge from the setting sun, a tinge which will probably disappear in a matter of minutes. But at this moment, the entire city seems to glow.

I have a suspicion of where we're eating now, a belief that's confirmed when Edward suddenly pauses and extends an arm to stop me.

"Do you care if we eat here?" he asks.

There are no tables. No seats, no servers; just the ground, a nearby steel rail, the water, and the city. But it's deserted – hardly anyone walks by this part at night – and furthermore, it's perfect.

I shake my head. Edward takes off his jacket and spreads it out for me to sit on, despite my protests. I'm actually wearing the perfect attire to sit on the ground, but he won't hear of it.

I take off my shoes and hang my feet over the edge of the concrete walkway. Edward does the same, but with shoes, and I find that the third bar of the steel rail is the perfect height in which to prop my elbows and lean forward.

While I'm admiring the view, Edward begins unpacking our dinner. He pulls out a bottle of wine, a container of oysters, crab legs, and a final container full of peel and eat shrimp. There's another covered container that he leaves in the bag, and I suspect it's our dessert.

The wine has already been opened and recorked – per his request, I imagine – and he pours it into two plastic cups. I quirk an eyebrow as he hands one to me.

"They wouldn't let me buy two wine glasses and I didn't think to grab any before we left," he says apologetically. I smile.

"No worries. This is perfect," I quickly assure. Because really, who actually _prefers_ drinking wine out of dainty little glasses that are annoyingly easy to spill and knock over? I'd take a plastic cup any day.

We begin eating, falling into easy conversation. Edward breaks my crab legs for me, which is a relief, because I've always been terrible at it. I've never understood the point of paying thirty bucks for a bucket of crab legs and then working up a sweat trying to get to the meat.

We talk about everything from school to work to Emmett and Rose. He shows me which of his teeth are fake. I show him a scar on my leg from a hot glue accident that occurred when I was nine. We get into a serious debate over whether or not I have a hitchhiker's thumb (I don't) and whether he's able to roll his tongue (he can). I blush, but don't reveal that I'm imagining other things he can do with his tongue, and thankfully the dim night hides my discomfort.

"Did you always want to own your own company?" I eventually ask him, curious.

"No. I used to want to play professional baseball," he admits.

"Being a snaggle tooth was pretty dissuasive, huh?" I tease, and he smirks at me.

"I'll have you know, Beautiful Bella, that the girls were falling all over themselves trying to get to me after that happened. Being a snaggle tooth was the best week of my life."

He's joking, I think, but for some reason the mention of other girls still bothers me. When I look down at my hands he instantly has his fingers on my chin, redirecting my gaze to his.

"I was joking, Bella," he says seriously. "I was missing two teeth. You really think girls were throwing themselves at me?"

I'd probably still throw myself at him, but I don't say this.

"Well, yeah." Okay, so maybe I do kind of say it.

"Trust me, Bella. They didn't. I skipped school for as long as I could and tried not to open my mouth the rest of the time."

"That's a shame. The pictures would have been priceless."

"So what about you?" he asks. "You have to have some equally embarrassing stories."

I think about it.

"I went to a pool party once and discovered my swim suit was see-through," I offer, which causes his mouth to pop open in surprise.

"Do you still own it?" he asks, excited, and I refrain from smacking my forehead in exasperation, though a part of me is a little bit turned on by his reaction.

"I was twelve," I reluctantly reveal. That makes it a _lot_ less sexy.

Just as suspected, Edward grimaces, his excitement quickly ebbing. "Oh."

"Sorry," I apologize, completely serious. And then I'm laughing, because it's hilarious that I would apologize for the most mortifying moment of my life during my pre-teen years. Edward chuckles with me, obviously catching the irony.

We're silent for a minute. Then I add, "I used to wet the bed until I was seven. I couldn't go to sleep-overs."

Edward smiles. "I used to be afraid of vampires and thought the only way to keep them away at night was to sleep with my arms crossed over my chest."

I burst out laughing. When I recover, I say, "I ran away with my best friend when I was eight. We were barefoot and got a mile down the street before she got a splinter in her foot and insisted we turn back."

"When Alice was three, I locked her in my mom's clothes chest and forgot about her for a whole hour."

"I broke my dad's favorite fishing pole and blamed it on my older cousin. I sat there and watched while my dad whipped him with a switch and I still didn't confess."

"I used to like Paula Abdul."

"When my mom warmed up her car in the morning, I used to wait out in the exhaust fumes and dance around like a Solid Gold dancer."

This confession in particular causes Edward to laugh so hard his face turns red and he can barely breathe. I can't help but giggle along with him – his laugh is infectious – but I admittedly feel like the biggest retard on the planet.

"_Those_ pictures would have been priceless!" he chokes out. "How old were you?"

"I don't know…maybe like seven…" I say, fudging the truth a little. Then I remember our vow of honesty and quickly huff, "Fine! I was ten. Are you happy?"

This only causes him to laugh harder.

We stay there and talk for hours after that. It's far too late and we both have to work in the morning, but neither of us spares it a second thought. We're too relieved – too elated – in each other's company to focus on anything else.

We have a slice of turtle cheesecake for dessert. Edward feeds me a piece, and I see him staring at my mouth the entire time. So it's no surprise when, several minutes later, he's whispering a guarded question into the night.

"Can I kiss you, Bella?"

I yearn for the day when we'll be so comfortable he won't feel the need to ask, yet I revel in these small moments as well.

The feel of his lips on mine is arguably the best ever. I twist my fingers in his hair, run them along his neck, across his stubbled jaw. I sigh against him as our lips open and his tongue slides against my own.

I slide as close to him as I possibly can without downright straddling his lap. Not that I don't think about it, but it's still a public area and I still want to take things slow. I think.

I'm so exhausted when we finally leave that I doze off in his car. I leave my arm resting on the center console, Edward's hand casually covering mine, and his thumb sweetly grazes my knuckles.

I don't remember the walk up my stairs, but I do remember lying back against my bed with Edward's shirt balled firmly inside my fist, forcing him to join me. He hovers over me, one foot still on the floor and one knee on the bed, and kisses my lips and face several times before prying my hand open and stepping away.

I whisper goodnight into the darkness, too sleepy to determine whether he's already gone, but confident that I drift to sleep still smiling.

-o-o-o-o-

The next day, work flies by. I don't even feel tired from my lack of sleep, and every dull moment is filled with thoughts of Edward or his brief words from the texts we sneak back and forth.

He drives into Seattle that night and we go out again, except this time I fix my hair and wear a skirt. And we sit at a table, around actual people, and it would almost be better than the night before if both nights didn't offer such stiff competition.

There's no more awkwardness. It's suddenly just me and him – two normal people on a normal date without the weight of bad decisions dragging us down.

I want to invite him back to my place that night, but I don't dare. I won't be able to control myself if I do.

Incidentally, that night ends up being the longest of my life. I'm so wound up that I jill off at least four times before I'm finally subdued enough to fall asleep.

Edward stays in town, and the next morning he comes over for breakfast. I figure I'll have better control over my sexual needs during the day time, although after seeing him in a gray polo shirt that makes his eyes pop, I'm suddenly not so sure.

I cook bacon, eggs, and pancakes. I even present him with a bowl of cut fruit. I'm not usually one to make such extravagant breakfasts, but I'm excited and nervous and almost positive that Edward doesn't thrive on sprinkled doughnuts and coffee in the morning.

We don't leave after breakfast. He helps me clean, and then we watch a movie on the couch. Or to be more precise, the movie plays in the background while I cram my tongue down his throat and strip him naked from the waist up.

He doesn't seem to mind. Especially when he nudges me backwards, causing me to lie down, and hovers over me in nothing but jeans with an already loosened fly.

My hands roam every inch of him – his arms, shoulders, neck, back. His lips leave fiery trails across my skin, scorching every exposed inch, and I'm unable to do anything except moan and arch my back at every touch.

Every part of me desires this man. I yearn to have him over me, around me, and inside of me. I can't get close enough – I claw and grasp at the back of his jeans, yanking him flush against my body. His erection presses into me, right _there_, causing us both to groan in unison.

Resolve has flown out the window, not even sparing a backwards glance to make sure I'm alright. I suppose it just knew, judging by our throaty moans and all.

There is no doubt left in my mind. I _will_ have sex today, with Edward, or else die by self-imposed sexual depravation.

But as I raise my hips off the couch, eagerly sliding my shorts down, Edward pauses and stops me.

"Are you sure we're ready for this, Bella?"

I freeze, my shorts halfway down my thighs. Edward's throbbing erection is still pressed against me, its hardness even more prominent with less fabric in the way. We're both breathing heavily, his chest lightly pressing against mine.

I'm not really sure how to answer. I don't want to think about whether or not we're ready, but instead I want to focus on howI _feel_.

And that's horny. Disturbingly horny, as a matter of fact. It's horniness accumulated from months and months of having a lonely hoohah combined with over two weeks of angry, unresolved sexual tension with the man currently pressing his really hard wanker against said hoohah.

No, I don't want to be having this conversation right now.

"What are you talking about?" I ask dumbly. I can't really focus on coherent conversation at the moment.

"I don't know, I just…I don't want to screw things up. And you said you wanted to take things slow, didn't you? I want you to know this isn't about sex for me, Bella. I mean, I want you - _God_, how I want you – but I don't want you to think that it's _all_ I want. Does that make any sense?"

It actually makes a lot of sense, considering our short past. But that's not to say I like it, or that I even want to think about it.

"It does make sense," I agree. "But I trust you now. Remember?"

Relief washes over his face and he kisses me. Hard.

But he's right. We probably are moving too fast. And not that I'm one who sits around fantasizing about this shit all day, but I never really imagined our first time being after a high-school-esque makeout session on the couch.

When he finally pulls away, moving his lips to my neck, I coyly add, "And we don't _have_ to have sex, you know. We can do…other things." To make sure he understands this proposition is temporary, I quickly add, "For now."

I feel him smiling against my neck. "Calmed down a bit, huh?"

"Shut up."

"I should have laid back and let you have your way with me when I had the chance."

"Stop talking," I scold him. "Your mouth should be doing other things right now."

His hand eases past my underwear and two fingers slip inside of me, curling upwards, and all talk ceases immediately. I moan embarrassingly loud and arch my back into his touch, eager for more, but remain grounded by twisting his hair around my fingers.

His mouth proves to be one of many wonders. And this time, he lets me return the favor.

Later on, after propositioning a repeat performance, we decide that my bed will be more comfortable. He carries me to the room but stops after taking two steps inside.

My legs are locked around his waist, my lips on his neck and jaw, but I soon pull away to see what has suddenly caught his interest.

He's staring down at my _Big Lebowski_ rug with a shit-eating grin on his face.

My face heats immediately. I had spread the rug on my bedroom floor, assuming that it matched the blue comforter of my bed better than the tan fabric of my couch. And it does. But it doesn't fit well, causing one end to curl unattractively against the wall.

I wonder if Edward thinks I'm some sort of crazy person for actually using it. I wonder if he expected me to do what any normal girl would do and discreetly get rid of the ugly thing.

"I see you like the rug," he says, and I detect a hint of smugness to his voice, as if he's the only person to ever buy me a super awesome _Big Lebowski_ replica rug.

Okay, so maybe he is.

I try to play it off with humor. "You have no idea," I breathe into his ear. "Perhaps if you lay down on top of it I'll _really_ have my way with you."

I'm joking, kind of, but Edward looks as though he's seriously debating the idea. This makes me giggle.

"What?" he asks, confused.

"Nothing," I say. "Put me down." I'm impatient, ready to have his lips on me again. He sets me on the bed and is over me in the same instant, his left hand never leaving my hip, his right already hidden beneath the fabric of my shirt.

-o-o-o-o-

I manage, quite successfully, to _not _have sex with Edward, and I consider this to be a pretty respectable feat. It really says something for my self-control, which is actually pretty lacking. But with my small bit and his small bit combined, we manage to avoid doing the deed for one whole day.

As much as I want him to stay the night, I don't push the idea when he tucks me into bed and tells me he's leaving. I had fallen asleep on the couch, the last two nights of little sleep finally catching up to me.

He tells me he'll see me tomorrow, and that thought alone puts me at ease.

The next day we meet for coffee and breakfast and catch an early movie. When it's over, we walk side-by-side down the marina, just talking and enjoying the minimal sunshine Seattle has to offer.

When I spot the scooter rental place, I blush. He observes my line of vision and begins laughing.

"Want to rent another scooter?" he jokes. Or at least I hope he's joking.

"Are you kidding?" I hold up my ugly casted arm for him to see. "This hand can only take so much more abuse before it falls off and leaves me, okay?"

"Well, if you have a good driver, you won't have to worry about kissing the pavement again."

I gasp and shove him away from me. "Shut up, Eduardo! Besides, your boner was stabbing me in the back and distracting me. What the hell was that about, anyway?"

"What?" he asks innocently. "I had a beautiful girl pressed against me. It was a normal reaction."

"Yeah, normal for a perverted geezer," I argue playfully.

"If women could get boners then you would've been sporting one on every date we went on," he challenges.

That puts an almost disturbing image in my head. But it's kind of funny. And probably true, damn it.

"You think too highly of yourself," I scoff.

In a blur of movement, I'm lifted off my feet and set upon the back end of a bench, putting me at eye level with Edward. The metal of the bench digs into my butt, but as soon as Edward steps between my legs, I realize I couldn't care less.

"Oh I do, huh?" he asks suggestively, and his voice sounds much more seductive that I'm sure it's supposed to. His face is inches from my own.

"You totally do," I breathe. "Now, no more talking."

His erection is pressed purposefully against me as his lips capture mine.

-o-o-o-o-

I remember Edward's hot tub later on that day and insist we go to his house and take advantage of it. Not surprisingly, it doesn't take much persuasion before Edward is driving me to my apartment for a swim suit. His only actual rebuke to this is, "Swim wear is optional, you know."

I roll my eyes, but in reality, skinny hot tub dipping with Edward is almost too tempting to resist. I clench my thighs together and remain silent.

At his house, we don't get into the hot tub right away. He pours me a glass of wine and I look around. It's not the first time I've been here, but I wasn't able to appreciate it before. It's smaller than his house in Olympia, yet still offers much more space than any single person should actually need.

This house is even less personalized than the last, yet it's actually quite tasteful in its simplicity. The walls are painted subdued hues and adorned with occasional, unremarkable paintings, most in black and white. The kitchen counter tops are dark granite and clean and his refrigerator is mostly empty, save for a few non-perishables. In the living room, his couch looks comfy and tempting; it's also void of the permanent ass imprints from being old and overused like the one at my apartment.

"You can go upstairs to change whenever you're ready," he offers as he emerges from the kitchen. He's carrying his own glass of wine and sips it as he regards me. I'm lingering around his entertainment stand in wonder – it's just as complicated as the one in Olympia, yet it lacks the enormous CD collection.

"Why do you have two houses?" I ask. Perhaps I've asked him before, but I can't recall his answer at the moment.

"It's convenient," is his simple answer. "It's much easier than staying at a hotel when I come to Seattle."

"Why not an apartment, though?" I wonder. "Wouldn't that be cheaper?"

He walks towards me, not stopping until he's only inches away. "It's much wiser to own property if you can afford it, Bella. There's nothing to gain from owning an apartment."

"I own an apartment," I state dumbly. Of course, he knows this – we spent the entire day there just yesterday. But I feel the need to defend myself. "But they're easier to come by around here. I could never afford a place like this by myself. Much less _two_."

"You'd be surprised. Depending on what you buy, a mortgage isn't much more expensive than rent."

It suddenly occurs to me that we're standing in the middle of his living room talking real estate when I should be wet and naked and rubbing against him. What the hell am I thinking?

I down my wine and scoop up my swim suit, then quickly head for the stairs. "Alright, I'm gonna go change," I say. I disappear into the bathroom and hear movement down the hall a few minutes later, indicating that he's changing as well.

I try very, very hard not to imagine him naked, but I'm so hot and bothered at the mere prospect of seeing him wet and shirtless in a few minutes that it doesn't matter either way. I slip quickly into my suit, throw my hair into a loose pony-tail, then wrap myself in one of his thick, plush towels before trotting down the stairs again.

I exit the backdoor, halfway expecting him to already be waiting, but the only movement comes from the bubbles of the rapidly heating water in the hot tub.

I decide to go ahead and get in, that way I can lie back with my arms spread casually over the edges and lure him in with my sex eyes. Or something like that. But as soon as I strip away my towel and get one leg awkwardly over the tub, the backdoor swings open and he steps onto the patio.

I'm so startled that I jump, causing the foot that's already in the water to slip. I fall halfway inside the tub, my face practically submerging as I flail my casted arm into the air, desperate to keep it dry and avoid another trip to the hospital. My ass is sticking up and on full display as I struggle to regain my footing.

I'm not even out of this mess yet and I'm already humiliated.

Edward's hands are almost instantly on my waist, pulling me upright and out of this horrid predicament. I'm gasping, thanking Jesus and whoever else will listen that my cast is still dry, and Edward is desperately asking me if I'm okay.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I assure him. Though my crotch landed on the edge of the tub pretty hard, leading me to believe that if I _had_ of been sporting a boner, as Edward so classily put it before, I'd probably be dead. But I feel weird discussing an imaginary boner again and don't say this.

Once he's convinced that I'm okay, he starts laughing. "Sheesh, someone's anxious!"

_How humiliating_.

"I'm not anxious," I argue, surely encompassing every shade of red imaginable at this moment. "You startled me."

"You were getting in the tub pretty quick. You weren't even waiting for me…"

"That was my normal pace," I lie. "You've just never seen me get in a hot tub before."

"Then perhaps I should hang up warning signs," he jokes. He slips around me, sliding into the tub first, then pulls me down with him so that I'm stationed between his legs. This position is lovely, but my damn cast is in the way and I have nowhere to put my arm. To remedy this, he loops my arm up and around his head, allowing it to rest on the back of his shoulder.

I probably look like an idiot in this position, but it works.

"Damn cast," I mutter. "I'll be glad when it comes off."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're ever _not_ in a cast," he says seriously, and I scoff.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I wasn't in a cast when I met you."

"Point taken."

We sit silently for a few minutes and I finally start to relax. Edward's body is hard against mine, his strong hands sweetly caressing my sides and hips as they slide along my skin. They move to my thighs, feeling every exposed area, and my legs part automatically.

Edward plants a kiss on my ear, then my neck, then my shoulder.

I take my left hand and grab his beneath the water, moving it from my thigh to my belly. From there I slowly bring it down, further and further, until it's at the top of my swim suit bottoms. With minimal nudging and little persuasion, he slips his hand beneath the fabric and between my sensitive folds.

I moan loudly. It would almost be embarrassing, except that he seems to be enjoying it as much as I am. He strokes slowly and deliberately, up and down, never slipping a finger inside but still producing sensations that leave me clawing at the sides of the tub, desperate to grip and squeeze and release.

But as much as I enjoy this, it's not enough for me. I want to be on him, skin to skin. I want to see him and touch him and taste him.

But at the moment, I can't stop what's happening. It feels too good, and he's touching me and driving me closer and closer until I'm panting his name and tensing beneath his fingers. He holds me tight against his body as I come, kissing my neck soundly and encouraging me with breathy words.

I all but collapse against his body, thankful I'm not really required to move, and take a moment to recover. I'm breathing heavily, and in the aftermath of my orgasm, the water feels swelteringly hot.

I twist around to face him, propping my knees on either side of his hips, and lift myself halfway out of the water. There's a breeze in the air which is soothing. He gazes up at me, his eyes dark, and I slowly tease him by leaning forward to kiss his lips. No other part of our bodies touch.

He reaches up and grabs my waist, pulling me against his body and onto his barely concealed bulge. I squeal as I'm submerged in the hot water again and I feel his lips pull into a smile against mine.

Not even a breath has passed between us before he's serious again, pulling me tighter into his lap. "God, I want you," he breathes. I'm practically grinding myself on top of him, reveling in the feel of him so close and yet desperately craving more.

"Take me," I whisper urgently. I want him – there's no doubt in my mind. Even if he pulled his dick out right now, in this boiling water, I'd probably leap on it like a feigning jack rabbit and have my way with it until I passed out from heat exhaustion.

He groans into my mouth, sending a tingle all the way down to my toes, although I'm not sure if this response is good or bad.

"Don't tempt me," he moans, and I want to scream.

_Tempt you? I'm begging you!_

"Edward, _please_."

I reach into his swim trunks for my prize. Grasping his dick firmly in my hand, I begin giving slow, deliberate strokes. His eyes roll back briefly and then he's leaning forward, capturing my neck with his lips. He's nipping and biting and sucking and kissing, his movements passionate and desperate.

"Stop thinking so much, Edward," I beg. "I don't want to over-analyze everything. I just want _you_."

"God damn it," he groans, but he doesn't seem mad. Perhaps just sexually frustrated, because I know I certainly am.

He swiftly stands, his arms firmly around my waist as he brings me with him. I clutch onto his body, wrapping my legs around him in a tight choke-hold to keep from slipping down, but finally ease to the ground once we are safely out of the hot tub.

His hands are all over me, running from my face, down my chest, to my stomach and across my sides. He kisses me hard, both of us stumbling back until I'm met with the wall by his back door. My hands slide easily across his wet skin, my mouth never parting from his as we kiss so forcefully it's almost painful.

He slides his hands beneath my bikini top, easily moving the fabric out of the way and releasing my breasts. He descends on them quickly, kissing and nipping, and I press myself into the hard wall behind me as I arch into his touch and moan.

After a moment, I grab onto his swim trunks and begin pulling and tugging, desperate to have them removed. Then his hand suddenly descends on mine, stopping me.

"Bella," he pants, "I really don't want you to think we're rushing this…"

Why is he still talking? I grab the back of his head and crush his lips against mine, silencing any remaining argument.

This time, he pulls the string of his swim trunks for me, loosening the waist, and my entire body tingles with anticipation as I slide them past his hips.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know I totally cockblocked you, but passionmama has agreed to be my personal bodyguard until the next update. You'll have to go through her to get to me ;-) Next chapter will pick up right where I've left off, except in EPOV...*wink wink***

**Thanks to ms-ambrosia for betaing and passionmama for prereading. And a big thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing. I'm pretty sure this chapter will push me over 4k reviews, and that's just kind of astounding to me. Sorry I'm usually reply fail, but they really mean a lot.**

**This story is winding down...probably only two or three more chapters to go now, plus an epi. But I've been working on a new story, which I'm kind of excited to start posting soon, so put me on Author Alert if you're interested. I'll probably post the first chapter in a week or two. **

**You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for teasers and updates. See ya next time!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I made a booboo last chapter when I said Bella hadn't been to Edward's house in Seattle before. Obviously, she has, because that's where she handcuffed him! But I wasn't thinking when I wrote it and it's fixed now. Just wanted to clarify.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 31

EPOV

This beautiful girl, with her fingers wound tightly in my hair – fingers which tug and pull and grasp in desperation, unable to find a satisfying purchase anywhere on my body – is almost too much. I've never felt such a lust, such a longing or desire to claim any one person before. And as much as I want to take things slowly, to adhere to her internal wishes even when she can't, I find myself equally lacking in self-control.

I push her against the wall, kissing every inch of exposed, smooth skin that I can find. As soon as my shorts are pushed past my hips, my cock springs free and is instantly grasped by her small, warm hand.

I hiss against her shoulder.

"Fuck, Bella," I pant. This encourages her, making her grip tighter, and she slides her hand slowly up and down my shaft.

I don't think I've ever been harder in my life.

We stay like this for a moment, me kissing and panting against her skin while she pumps her hand up and down my cock. I'm desperate to be inside of her, so much so that I envision myself turning her around and taking her right here on the patio. Or else slipping her bikini out of the way and hoisting her around my hips, where she'll fit easily around me as I claim her against the wall.

But I want to do this right – to do _one thing_ right – so I reach a blind hand out and eventually yank the back door open. I lay my hand across hers, regrettably causing it to still.

"Let's go inside, baby," I murmur against her lips, urging her along, but we never disengage as she backs through the doorway and pulls me with her. I have to pull my swim trunks back up so that I can walk, but Bella's breasts remains exposed and at my disposal. I eventually reach around and pull the tie, causing the entire top to loosen and spring open, and she quickly pulls the tiny bit of fabric over her head before callously tossing it aside.

We're suddenly going at it in the kitchen, just as urgent as on the patio, and I'm not sure how we're ever going to make it to the bedroom at this rate. When she tries to slip her hand inside my shorts again, I stop her.

"The stairs, baby, the stairs," I urge her. Otherwise, I'm going to take her right here on the fucking kitchen table.

She nods in understanding and rushes to the staircase, pulling me along, but as soon as we hit the first step there's a loud, frantic knocking at the front door.

We both freeze. My heart is hammering madly and Bella's wide eyes seek mine.

"Who the hell is that?" she breathes, alarmed. They're knocking like the goddamn police and the first thought that enters my mind is that someone took offense to a free peep show of me and Bella on the porch. But could the police really get here that fast?

Bella whips around me to retrieve her bathing suit from the floor, quickly making sure everything is covered.

"Just wait for me upstairs," I tell her, vowing to get rid of this intruder as quickly as possible. She nods, giving me one last searching look, and disappears up the steps.

The intruder is knocking again when my hand turns the doorknob. And to my surprise, it's my old, widowed neighbor, Mrs. Cope.

I instantly wonder if _she _somehow received a free peep show, but her relief says otherwise.

"Edward! Thank heavens. Will you please come quick? My entire house is flooding!"

I have no idea what she's talking about, but my dick is softening and she's insisting I go with her. I yell to Bella that I'll be right back and follow her out the door. She walks with a purpose, easily scaling my yard and then hers, and goes on and on about how her son lives fifteen minutes away and how her house will be under water by the time he gets here.

And she's right; her house is fucking flooding. Something has broken on her washing machine and water is pouring from the bottom of it like a burst dam. Her carpet squishes beneath my bare feet and the water rushes around the linoleum of her kitchen like I'm standing in a river.

I pull the washing machine away from the wall and unplug it, but that obviously wasn't the problem. I have to turn off the water line before the gushing finally stops.

It was so loud before that the silence that follows is almost eerie.

Mrs. Cope walks around making a fuss. The water squishes and splashes under her feet and the legs of her pants are soaked almost up to the knees. It's a good thing I was dressed appropriately for the job; I'm still in nothing but swim trunks.

"Thank heavens you were home tonight, Edward," she says. "I don't know what I would have done. There was no way I could move that big ole' machine by myself!"

"It was no problem, Mrs. Cope," I say easily, but truthfully the only thing I can think about is getting back to Bella. I imagine her lying back on my bed, her hair fanned around her sweet face, and I want to sink inside of her and never emerge.

But I can't leave yet. Mrs. Cope is gathering towels, bending on her bad knees to clean up the mess, and I can't be the shitty neighbor that leaves her in this state. Even if it is to go have sex.

So I help her. We use every towel in her house and it isn't enough. I go back to my house for more, and Bella is waiting by the door when I enter. She's wearing her normal clothes.

"What happened?" she asks anxiously, and I tell her the sordid story. I put on a shirt and gather up over half the towels I own, ready to head back over, but Bella insists on coming with me.

"You don't have to, Bella," I say, figuring she feels guilty for just waiting around. I know mopping up a flooded floor isn't how she wanted to spend her night. "I shouldn't be too long."

"I don't care," she argues, taking some towels from my arms. "I want to come with you. I can help, too." She follows me across the lawn, barefoot as well.

Despite the mess, Mrs. Cope's eyes light up when she sees Bella. "And who is this lovely young lady, Edward? I haven't seen her before."

Bella looks a little uncomfortable, but she smiles at Mrs. Cope.

"This is Bella," I introduce. "Bella, this is Mrs. Cope."

I don't introduce Bella as anything because I don't know what she is. We haven't discussed this. _Friend_ seems a little informal considering I was just planning on sticking my dick in her. But she's not my girlfriend – at least she hasn't said that she is – so it doesn't seem appropriate to assume. Not to mention, the whole idea leaves me feeling a little clammy.

_Fuck_. Why do I feel this way? Why do I clam up and doubt myself? I want to be good for Bella and I want to deserve her, but it seems almost impossible when there is a tightness in my chest that won't let me breathe, much less focus on how to earn her trust and respect.

Mrs. Cope is taking half the towels from Bella and is smiling pleasantly. "Well it's lovely to meet you, dear. I never see Edward with any girls over there; I was starting to worry about him getting lonely."

Mrs. Cope is worse than Esme. I don't roll my eyes, because I'm afraid that she'll see, but I definitely think about it.

Bella looks over at me. She's on her knees in the kitchen, mopping up the flood, and she smiles almost tentatively when our gazes meet.

And that's all it takes. Her smile – just a simple, little smile – takes my breath away, and I know that everything I'm pushing and fighting for, as impossible as it all may seem, is worth it.

Mrs. Cope's son shows up a few minutes later and takes charge. The kitchen floor is nearly dry at this point, but water still seeps over from the sludgy carpet. Mrs. Cope puts my wet towels in a garbage bag and sends them back with us, apologizing again and again for not being able to wash them herself.

Bella and I walk so close together that our arms keep brushing. I can feel myself getting hard again, but at this point I'm sure the moment has vanished and beginning where we left off will be awkward. And maybe it was too soon. Maybe the interruption was a good thing.

I leave the bag of towels on the front porch. I'll deal with them later. For now, Bella is here and we're finally alone and whatever she wants to do, I'm hers.

Once inside, she stands in the living room and nervously rubs her arms. She smiles sheepishly.

"Well, that was interesting," she says, but I know what she means. It was a downright painful experience compared to what we could have been doing.

I scratch the back of my head. "Sorry, Mrs. Cope lives alone. Her husband died two years ago…"

"It's fine, Edward."

I try not to think of what we'd be doing at this moment had we not been interrupted. I try, but I fail, and the bulge in my shorts shows this. Bella sucks in a deep breath.

One second, things feel awkward. I'm not sure what to do or say or whether we'll pick up where we left off or simply watch a movie or go out for ice cream or something else completely inane. The next second, I'm all over her. My lips, my hands. I'm pushing her against the wall, one hand on her neck and the other on her hip as I kiss and suck and tug and pull her closer and press my body into hers. I'm not sure whether she met me in the middle or if I provoked the entire attack, but she's matching my frenzy, tugging and pulling and yanking my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor where it lays in an abandoned heap.

Her shirt comes off. She's still wearing her bikini beneath her clothes and with one tug of the string, the top loosens and is easily removed.

She quickly unbuttons her skirt, but I'm anxious to _feel_. I slide my hands up her thighs and over her hips. They linger beneath the fabric of her skirt, and her bikini bottom creates a barrier between my skin and hers.

I tug them both down.

She's naked before me, completely bare and wholly beautiful. And with one swift tug of my short strings, it's suddenly skin against skin, man against woman, sincerity against truth. I rub my hands down her back, over the swell of her bottom, and in one sudden movement I hoist her up and against me.

She gasps as her legs lock around my body. I push her against the wall for leverage, kissing her hard, and I can feel the moist heat between her legs as it grazes against my cock. It's so _close_, and the waiting has left me barely able to stand.

I'm normally a patient person, but not now. I feel like I've wanted this – _her_ – for years and years, and one small interruption isn't enough to drive away the desire. The _need_.

My lips move to her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. She pants against me and I know she wants it just as badly, a theory confirmed when she snakes her hand over and around my arm and grabs my cock. She shifts away, seeking space so that she can slide it inside.

"We should go to the bedroom," I pant, but the words are useless. Everything is useless except me and her and this _need_.

She shakes her head and her own words are breathy and strained. "No, Edward. I'm tired of waiting."

"But…we need…condom…" I kiss and bite her shoulder between words.

"Do you trust me?"

"God, yes."

Her earlier statement is driven home when she finds her mark and sinks on top of me.

We both groan.

I push hard against her, filling and consuming. She's hot and tight and moans deliciously in my ear, causing me to respond with a low, throaty, "Fuck." With her fingers twisted in my hair, she guides my face to hers and kisses me. Hard.

Her own desire floods through me and I thrust into her, the strokes hard, yet slow and deliberate. I fill her completely every time, holding nothing back. Her bare heels dig into my backside and her short nails claw at my skin.

But I can't see her this way.

I'm grasping her hips tightly as I push away from the wall, seeking a place where I can lay her down and see our bodies joined – where I can run my hands along her skin and worship every curve and dip of her body. As much as I'd like to take her to bed, I'm not so sure I can successfully carry her this way – still attached, still inside of her warm body – up the stairs, and neither of us is willing to part.

The kitchen table is closest. I set her down on the edge and she immediately releases my shoulder with one hand in lieu of propping herself up. I kiss her, and it's less frenzied this time. It's sweeter, slightly calmer. I push in and out of her almost instantly and she moans against my lips, her hand curling around my neck.

"You feel so good," she whispers against me. "So, so good."

I fill her with long, languid strokes.

"God, Edward," she moans, throwing her head back, and I leave hot, breathy kisses along her exposed throat.

I shift her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, and press deeper inside of her. She's panting and she's close, but so am I. I'm not sure how much longer I can last, and I think of Emmett and Demitri's saw and anything else I can imagine to ward off this building orgasm, but it's useless. She feels too good and I've wanted this for far, far too long.

Desperate to bring her with me, I reach down and begin rubbing her clit, causing her body to tense and her head to fall back once more.

"God, Edward…I can't…I'm gonna…"

"Come with me, baby," I plead, and she clenches her eyes shut and arches her back, forcing her chest towards me as she pants my name and comes undone. I keep my arm around her, refusing to let her fall back, and a few seconds later I'm following her into oblivion. Her hand grabs desperately at my cheek and guides my mouth back to hers, causing me to expel the last cries of my orgasm against her lips, and together we rest panting and spent on the edge of the table.

A light sheen of sweat covers both our bodies. Bella is like jello in my arms, and when I finally ease my hold she slowly lies back and spreads her arms out wide on the table. She's breathing hard and deep and smiling.

"That was awesome," she pants. She looks like she's just had the best sex of her life, and though I try really hard not to smirk, she makes it almost impossible as she lies there panting and grinning that way.

As I pull out of her she says, "Uh oh! Now something else is swelling."

I'm confused at first, but then I get it. She's talking about my head. The one on my shoulders.

"I didn't say anything," I protest, laughing.

She sits up and puts a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to her. We kiss, and it's slow and soft and sweet.

"You didn't have to," she whispers. "I could see it in your eyes."

"I'll keep them closed next time."

"Don't you dare."

We kiss again. I don't feel like I'm ever going to get enough.

It's not until I'm helping her off the table and she winces that the full wave of remorse hits me. I should have insisted that we go to the bedroom. I should have insisted that we go slow, that we take our time to experience and enjoy each other.

She didn't deserve frenzied and rushed. She didn't deserve hard walls and cold tables. She deserved sweet and slow and romantic. She deserved to have her body worshipped.

I run a frustrated hand through my hair. "I'm sorry," I blurt suddenly, and Bella whips around to face me. She's searching for her clothes, which are several feet away.

There's panic in her eyes. "For what?"

"We shouldn't have done it that way," I explain. "We should have…I should have taken you to bed."

She visibly relaxes, and I'm confused by this reaction. Did she think I was sorry about _us_?

"Yeah, well, you're just a man," she jokes, bending to scoop up her clothes. "We all know what a weak gender you are."

She's making a jab at me to change the subject. She knows what I saw.

I follow her lead and pull on my shorts, remaining shirtless. "I don't regret what we just did, Bella," I assure her. "Or how we did it. I just don't want _you_ to regret it. It should have been special."

She turns to look at me, and this time she looks hurt. "It _was _special. To _me_," she protests, and now I just feel like an ass.

"Fuck, Bella. That's not what I meant at all," I hastily apologize. I pull her into my arms, and thankfully she doesn't protest. She melts into me. "It _was_ special. Hell, I'd like to do it like that again and again. But I don't want you to think back to this time and wish there would have been flowers and a sunset and candles and—"

"Edward?"

"Huh?"

She looks up at me. She's smiling. "You talk too fucking much. We just had sex and I'm tired. Now please stop worrying like a woman and shut up."

I sigh, but I'm relieved. She's right – I worry _way_ too fucking much. She's not upset, so why should I be? That was some of the best sex I've ever had.

"There hasn't really been _anything_ traditional about us," she goes on. "And the sappy stuff is nice, but people usually spend so much time worrying over it that it sucks all the romance out of it. And I was literally going to die if I had to wait another moment. Mrs. Cope is nice, but she'll always be a cockblocker to me now."

I'm grinning. I'd do anything for this girl.

We decide to watch a movie upstairs. I don't have many to choose from here, but she picks one and carries it up to my room. She pauses when she sees my new headboard and grins. I don't expect her to bring it up, but I'm constantly surprised.

"Quite the impressive headboard you've got there," she comments. "And I see it's solid. No handcuffs are getting through that bad boy."

She's right, but that's not why I bought it. Well, that may subconsciously be why I bought it, but I don't ever plan on putting myself in that type of situation again. So hopefully that wouldn't be an issue either way.

"Yep. Solid. Just like me," I joke with a grin. And what else should I say? We've been having a good night – a very, _very _good night – and I don't want to broach any type of subject that could ruin it.

She must think the same thing, because she crawls into the bed without another comment. She flips the covers down so that I can join her, but I tell her I'm going to change into some dry clothes. Not thinking, I almost carry my clothes to the bathroom, but finally strip down right and front of her.

Bella watches me like she's getting a free show.

"Ooh, and I left all of my ones downstairs," she jokes. But I can see the heat in her eyes, and a part of me doubts we're really going to watch this movie. And a greater part of me is ridiculously excited over this.

But we do watch the movie. For a solid fifteen minutes, at least. Then she rolls over and curls into my side, toying with the hair just beneath my navel. I'm wearing nothing but boxers and it's terribly distracting, but I don't stop her. I wouldn't _dare_ stop her.

Her touch gets me hard. I'm wound up all over again, but the blanket fortunately – or unfortunately – hides my obvious display.

Bella pretends to watch the movie, but it's obviously an act. How could she be? The movie is the farthest thing from my mind, and it's inconceivable that her thoughts are not wandering in the same direction.

I turn on my side so that we're facing and smooth her hair from her face with my hand. Our eyes remain locked as we gently kiss, but then it's a little harder, and then I'm sliding my hand down the back of her skirt, cupping her bottom, and I pull her against me.

We stay like this a moment, just kissing and enjoying each other. Then we flip so that I'm over her, my weight on my elbows, and her skirt comes down easily as soon as it's unbuttoned. She slides her hand beneath my boxers and pushes them down to my thighs – as far as she can reach – and as soon as my cock is free, I slip inside of her, fully entering with one quick, fluid motion.

It's not hurried or rushed this time. It's not frantic or desperate. My movements begin slow and measured, her hips lifting to meet mine, and I remain inside of her as her shirt is pulled away and discarded.

When she asks me to go harder, I go harder. When she rakes her nails down my back, I go faster. When she spreads her legs wider, I go deeper. I prop one of her legs up with my arm, submersing myself as far as I can, and when she arches her back and screams my name, I follow.

She falls asleep curled into my side, and I don't ask whether she wants to stay the night here. It's a given. And I'm not sure I'd let her leave.

I probably watch her sleep for hours. The movie plays on repeat, and sleep evades me. But I'm not upset. I keep thinking that this is what I've been missing – this is what I needed in my life. And I don't realize I'm speaking aloud until she stirs and smiles against my chest, mumbling, "Me, too."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for not killing me over the last chapter...I'm sure dying would have really gotten in the way of my writing. And uh...sorry for the scare in the beginning. Cockblock not intended. Well, maybe it was, hehe. But at least I followed through. Passionmama preread and ms-ambrosia beta'd and got it back to me in less than a day...holy hell! Thank you ladies! Muah! And thanks so much for all the reviews and even the death threats! They made my day.**

**I finally posted the prologue to my new story today, Doctor's Orders. It'll feature one snarky nurse and one beautiful doc. I'm super excited to see what everyone thinks, so go check it out! Link is on the profile.**

**I'm mybluesky1 on Twitter. Hope everyone has a good holiday weekend!**

**xoxo**


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 32

EPOV

I feel the bed dip to the left, then the right, before the weight evens and everything is still. There's something tickling my face – it's light and skims along my skin. It smells like coconut. There's a kiss placed on my chin, then my jaw, and then multiple, heated kisses trail down my neck.

This is the perfect way to wake up. I instantly know nothing was a dream – the beautiful girl is here, now, seducing me to consciousness. I can smell her and feel her, and as her mouth reaches my chest, she sits back and puts gentle weight on the bulge hidden just beneath the covers.

Quickly, before she has time to even process what's happening, I capture her in my arms and flip us both over. She squeals as she's thrown onto her back, pinned between me and the bed.

"Edward, _no_!" she grunts, laughing. She struggles against me, but it's useless. She finally calms down once I kiss her.

"No what?" I ask innocently.

She glares at me, but it's playful. Her eyes are shining and bright. There's an unusual amount of sunlight pouring in from the window, covering the bed and the happy couple that resides here.

"You know what."

She tries one last time to push me away, but I don't budge. I begin kissing her neck, nipping in sensitive places, and she throws her head back and moans.

"I made you breakfast."

Her argument is weak. I don't care about breakfast.

"I have plenty to eat right here," I say deviously. She giggles.

"Maybe if you're good, I'll let you take a shower with me after we eat."

I groan, moving my lips lower, pushing the fabric of her t-shirt up to expose the skin beneath. Her hands wind into my hair, encouraging me, but she gives one last effort.

"The breakfast won't be _good_ anymore, Edward. I got up early to fix it…"

She doesn't sound very persuasive this time. Perhaps she's trying to convince herself as much as me. But I sigh and lower her shirt before pulling back. I'm being a dick.

"You're right, baby. I'm sorry." I skim my nose against hers, placing a soft kiss at the top of her mouth. She sighs against me. "I'm holding you to that shower, though," I tease.

She grins and pushes against me. This time, I relent and move back, allowing her to easily slide out of bed. Her smooth legs disappear beneath one of my long shirts, and had I not just been all over her, I would wonder as to whether she was wearing panties. Unfortunately, she is.

She throws a playful look in my direction, which is unbelievably sexy. My erection is almost painful.

"Remember, you have to be good," she reminds me. "Now hurry up. It's probably already cold. And the sooner you eat, the sooner _I_ can get cleaned up."

I've never eaten so fast in my entire life.

Bella makes a show of being in the shower. She _accidentally_ drops the soap, then _subtly_ bends at the waist to pick it up, pressing her ass against my crotch as she does. It takes everything within me not to grab her by the hips and slam into her.

She stands in front of me, facing away, as I lather up my hands and wash her hair. I pull her flush against my body so that my erection is nestled right against her ass. I feel like I'm going to explode.

She moans as I work the soap through her hair. This foreplay has me crazy. She shifts to the other foot, and that slight movement alone causes me to groan loudly.

She turns around, regarding me with wide, innocent eyes.

"Edward, you seem tense," she observes, sliding a soapy hand down my chest. I dip my head, kissing her hard in response, and then groan again when she wraps her hand around my shaft. Her grip is tight and sensual as she slides it slowly up and down.

"I know what's good for stress," she goes on, and suddenly she drops to her knees on the tile, coming to eye level with my cock. Slowly, leisurely, she runs her tongue from the bottom of the shaft all the way up to the tip before taking me into her mouth.

I hiss, throwing a hand against the wall. "Fuck, Bella," I moan, and she looks up at me with those same innocent eyes, my cock as far inside her mouth as it will go.

She sucks harder, using her hand to squeeze any remaining length, and my own hand instinctively winds through her wet hair. I pull slightly, not enough to hurt, and she moans in response.

A few more minutes of this, and I could come. There's no doubt in my mind. But I want to be buried inside of her, deep enough to lose myself. I want her to experience this pleasure with me.

I gently pull her up, crushing her lips to mine. I push against her until she hits the wall, my hand immediately falling south to slip between her slick folds. She groans hungrily against my lips as she grasps desperately at my shoulders.

When I feel she's ready, I pull away. "Turn around," I murmur, spinning her to face the wall. She obliges without question, and I slip my finger inside of her from behind, causing her to gasp.

"Edward…" she moans. I pull out my finger to rub small circles around her clit instead, and she reaches down and covers my hand with hers, increasing the pressure.

I remove my hand, running it over her bum and along her thigh. She spreads her legs automatically, which is perfect.

"Put your hands against the wall," I urge her, and she eagerly complies. She stands there panting and waiting, and I slide my fingers over her clit once more before guiding my dick between her slick folds and pushing inside.

She moans as I fully enter her, and then again when I pull out and push forcefully back inside. She feels so good, _so _good, and I subconsciously let my head fall forward as I grab her hips and increase my pace, pushing into her as far as possible, yet not nearly deep enough. The water is beginning to run cold, but I don't care. We don't care.

"Fuck, Bella," I groan. I can't get deep enough in this position and yet it feels too good to stop. I couldn't if I tried.

"God, Edward. That feels _so_ good," she breathes. "Go harder. _Please_ go harder!"

I comply. I slam into her, wrapping my arm around her stomach for support as she braces herself with her hands against the wall. When I slide my hand south, teasing and rubbing her clit, she loses composure completely and comes undone, throbbing and clenching around my swollen cock. I follow her only moments later, burying my face into her shoulder as I pant her name and release deep inside of her.

We stay in this position a moment, our breaths labored as we struggle to calm. The water is ice cold now. With a heavy hand, I reach up and turn the showerhead away, redirecting the flow of water to the glass door.

"I'm sorry," I pant against her wet skin. "The water is cold as hell."

She shrugs, wincing when I finally pull out of her. "It didn't feel so bad," she assures me. She turns to face me, her eyes full of reverence as she looks up and smiles shyly. This feeling – this tightening in my chest – is still such a foreign thing, yet I embrace it, I love it, and I'm smiling madly as I lean forward and kiss her soundly on the lips.

It's relatively warm in the bathroom, but I help dry her off quickly, worried that she might get cold. She winces when the towel touches between her legs and I pull back instantly.

"Are you okay?"

She looks a little sheepish. "Sorry, I'm just getting kind of sore. It's just been a while and…well hell, three times in twelve hours is like a record for me."

I smile, causing her to slap me on the shoulder.

"You're lucky you have a cute smirk or else this would never work," she teases.

"I wasn't smirking," I argue.

"All you ever do is smirk. You're smirking right now!"

I concentrate hard on not smiling as I wrap the towel around her, leaning forward to briefly kiss her again. "It won't happen again," I assure seriously. "Do you need some Tylenol?"

"No, I need cooter therapy. And yeah-fucking-right it won't happen again. I'm pretty sure you'd explode with all of your suppressed egotistical tendencies."

"Yeah, then no more sex marathons," I joke as I begin to dry myself off. Then I seriously ask, "What's cooter therapy?"

"You know, like yoga for your cooter. You need to just leave it alone so it can stretch and heal and relax."

"How long does that take?" I pout, grinning to let her know I'm joking, but she pinches me hard in my side anyway, and when I make to grab for her she rushes out of the bathroom in a flash and laughs as she slams the door behind her.

-o-o-o-o-

Bella stays with me again that night, even though we don't do anything. I pull her back against my chest and bury my face into her shoulder, planting soft kisses while inhaling the luscious floral scent of her skin and hair.

It's in this position that we finally have the talk. I'm the first to bring it up. "Bella, we don't… I mean… you're protected, right?" I murmur against her skin. I dread being the one to talk about this, but for my own peace of mind, I need to know.

She doesn't move against me. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically. "Yes, Edward," she finally answers. "Of course I am. I'm not that big of a daredevil." She gives a small snort at her own bad joke.

"Okay," I say quietly. I kiss her skin again. I'm relieved, but I don't say this.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Edward. Or myself. I'm not ready to have a baby."

"I know," I assure her. A few minutes of silence passes in which I rub her shoulder, trailing my fingers down her bare arm. She loves this. "You weren't worried about me, though?" I wonder, curious. Not that I have anything to worry about, but she doesn't know this.

Slowly, she turns around to face me. She runs her fingers across my face, causing me to close my eyes and sigh.

"We were probably being a little reckless," she says truthfully. "But I trust you. I think you would have told me. Or stopped me."

She doesn't ask me if I would have. She doesn't need to.

I kiss her, and we lie there that way, enjoying each other's presence. I'm already dreading the following day, because it's the beginning of the work week – an entire week that I'll be forced to be away from her.

We text each other a lot while we work. I have flowers sent to her job, which she calls to thank me for. That night I drive back to Seattle and stay with her at her apartment, and the next day she drives to Olympia and stays with me.

That's the night we come together again. She straddles me, her hair a curtain between our faces as we come together passionately, and she rides me this way until I flip her over and we both lose control.

On Thursday, Bella calls me in the middle of the day in a rush of excitement.

"You won't believe this!" she says, her voice a little high. "But there is a very popular author coming into town tomorrow night, and guess who gets to interview her?"

Her excitement practically buzzes through the phone.

"You do?" I ask, though it's not really a question. It's obvious.

"Yes! _Me_! Can you believe it?"

"That's wonderful, Bella! How did that happen?"

"The reporter is sick and they didn't have anyone else to cover it right now. One of our other reporters just had a baby, and there's so much shit going on right now that everyone else is busy with something else, so I volunteered and the editor said yes!"

That night, we celebrate.

Bella shared the news with Rosalie, so she comes along, too. And apparently wherever Rose goes, Emmett follows.

We eat at a sports bar called The Pickle Barrel. They serve every kind of beer imaginable, along with wings, fries, hamburgers, and anything else you could possibly want, so long as it's deep-fried and slathered with a few layers of fat. It's nothing I would have chosen, but it's where Bella wants to eat. And tonight is her night.

We get two pitchers of beer – one is for Emmett – and toast to new opportunities. Bella drinks slowly. "I need to go home and get my shit together," she explains. "I can't get drunk."

Emmett shrugs, chugging half his beer in one go. "Better you than me."

"Stop it!" Rose scolds, smacking his arm while he's in mid-chug. "You're driving tonight."

"I drove _last_ time!"

"Bella is _my_ friend, and _I'm_ getting drunk with her!"

"She just said she wasn't getting drunk!" Em argues. "And besides, Bella and I are cool, too. We get drunk together. Like PB and Jelly, ain't that right, B?"

He and Bella fist-bump across the table, but Bella adds, "But you know it's always a better night for the man if the woman's drunk." She wiggles her eyebrows, and understanding dawns in Em's eyes. Just like that, he concedes.

"I'm sorry, baby. You can get drunk." He kisses Rose on the cheek. She smirks.

"Or you could both get drunk and just take a cab," I suggest.

"Nah, I'm getting too old for that _Dude, Where's My Car?_ bullshit. You know?"

I do know. We're getting too old for a lot of things, and we toast once again to growing up. To making better decisions. And when Em and Rose are absorbed in the midst of another argument, Bella and I toast to starting over.

-o-o-o-o-

Bella won't let me do or say anything to her once we're back at her apartment. She's determined to spend the rest of the night making notes for her interview tomorrow, and a part of me feels as though my presence is more distracting than welcome. But when I suggest leaving, she whines and pulls me towards her by a fistful of my shirt.

"But I don't _want_ you to leave!"

My lips are against hers and I mumble, "But I'm distracting you."

"No you're not. I like having you here. Besides, I'll be done soon."

I go take a shower while I wait on her. When I'm done, I walk into her bedroom to find her sprawled on her stomach atop the giant, ugly rug, her legs crossed in the air while she chews the end of a pen thoughtfully. She doesn't see me there, so I lean against the doorframe and watch her.

I had never thought I'd want this again, but I do. So fucking much. And I can't get over how lucky I am that she's giving me another chance.

After a moment, she turns around, spotting me in the doorway. She blushes and rolls over, looking embarrassed.

"Stop staring at me!" she scolds me, smiling.

"You're too beautiful not to stare at," I protest.

"Yeah, yeah. You and your lines." She rolls her eyes.

"They're not _lines_ if they're true."

She doesn't respond, but turns back to her notes, her face still a little flushed. She tries to hide a smile.

"I'll go watch TV until you're done," I tell her, turning to leave.

"Wait!"

I turn back around, surprised.

Bella suddenly looks devious. Then she looks unsure. "Nevermind."

"Tell me."

"No. It's stupid."

"It can't be stupid."

"How would you know? You don't even know what it is."

"Exactly, because you won't tell me."

"Well I've killed the moment now, anyway. So now it really _will _be stupid. I'll ask you another time."

I sigh, exasperated. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

She just grins. "You have no idea."

-o-o-o-o-

Bella is feeling good about the interview. She calls me when it's over to relay every bit, then spends half the night working on it even though she has the whole weekend to write up the report. I give her some space so that she can finish it without distractions. I go to my house in Olympia, seeking some time alone, but there's a knock on the door two hours or so after my arrival. My quest for solitude abandoned, I answer eagerly, thinking it must be a surprise visit from Bella.

But Lauren is there instead, dressed in heels and a tight skirt. Her hair is flawless, her makeup overdone, and she gives me a wary smile upon greeting.

"Hey, Lauren." I'm surprised. She hasn't called me all week, which isn't exactly unusual – we would sometimes go several weeks at a time without seeking the other's company – but it doesn't negate the fact that I never returned her last call and that I blew her off the time before that.

She smiles at me. "I'm good. Very good," she replies assertively. "Sorry for just dropping in, but I was passing through and…well, we haven't talked lately. What about you?" She sounds sure, but she fidgets nervously.

"I'm good. And yeah, sorry, I've been…busy." This is such a piss-poor excuse. I debate whether to invite her inside, but eventually, I do.

We sit on the couch, and she's closer than I'd like her to be. There's a good two feet between us, but it's still too close.

"What about now? Are you still busy?" She looks at me hopefully, and I'm saddened at the thought. Lauren's a good person; she's just…too much like me. She's wary of letting people in and cautious of getting too close. It's why we were such a perfect match. There were no expectations from either of us.

"Lauren, I..." I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I met somebody," I finally admit. "And things have been weird for me, but I really like her. It's more than just sex and…I don't know…"

Lauren's silent. She nods, but doesn't look at me.

"She makes me really happy," I finally conclude. I don't expect her to experience any enthusiasm over this, but she has a right to know everything. I shouldn't have treated her the way I did this past month.

She sighs heavily, and finally, her eyes meet mine. "Well that's great, Edward. I'm really happy for you." Her eyes are sad, but she really does sound happy, even if it's only for me. It's more than I expected.

"I'm sorry, Lauren," I tell her. I'm genuine in my apology.

"Don't be ridiculous, Edward. You shouldn't apologize for being happy with someone."

"I should have told you before. It was all kind of fucked up, to be honest. I didn't know what was happening for a while."

She shrugs, unbothered. "No worries, Edward. I'd expect you to understand if I found someone, so…yeah. We're just friends now. At least, I hope we can still be friends." She looks at me, as if expecting an answer right now.

"I hope so too, Lauren." I hope, but I don't expect this. But Lauren's a good person. She's easy to talk to and she'd make a good, caring friend.

She sighs, then stands up. "I should probably go then. I should have called, but I kind of felt like you were avoiding me. I guess I was right." She smiles sadly and I groan. I can never get things _right_.

"I'm sorry," I say again, but she waves off my apology.

"I told you not to worry," she says. She steers us in a new direction. "Can I meet her sometime?"

I think about this. "I don't know," I answer truthfully. It would probably be too weird.

She smiles sadly, because she understands. I walk her to the door. She gives me a hug right there in the foyer as she says goodbye. Then, as if God truly hates me, I open the door to reveal Bella standing on the other side, her shoulders hunched, her stance unsure. She's obviously noticed Lauren's car in the driveway. Her eyes flash to Lauren's, then to mine, then most likely to how close together we're standing.

I can't read the emotion in her eyes. She's not angry, nor hurt, but she's certainly not happy. Lauren sucks in a deep breath before I can say anything.

"Is this her?" She has a wide smile. Bella looks wary.

"Who are you?" Her voice isn't as accusing as I thought it would be. Lauren steps forward to introduce herself, but I step in before she has a chance.

"Yes, Lauren. This is _Bella_, the girl I just told you all about. Bella, this is Lauren."

Bella looks at me, seeking truth in these words. My heart races as I say a silent prayer. _Please please please don't fuck me over, Lauren…_

Lauren smirks. My heart drops. And then, "It's a pleasure, Bella. I was just talking about how much I wanted to meet you." She turns to me. "You told me she was beautiful, Edward. You didn't say _gorgeous_," she chides with a wink.

Bella seems to be breathing again. This is a good thing.

"Baby, Lauren just stopped by for a second. We were just talking." I walk over to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder to let her know where my affections lie. She nods weakly as Lauren steps past us, moving towards the stairs.

"Yeah, I should have called. I just haven't spoken to Edward in a while." She looks at Bella, and she almost looks…wistful? "But I should really be going. It was nice meeting you."

Bella seems to find her voice. "Um, yeah. Same here."

Lauren nods and retreats to her car. I'm incredibly nervous, anxious for the possible shit storm that's about to take place. I can't believe my horrid luck.

Bella says she trusts me, but I can't imagine how I'd feel if I were in her shoes.

I pull her inside, quickly closing the door behind us. I hear Lauren crank her car. Immediately, I turn to Bella, my face full of remorse and panic.

"Bella, I swear to fucking _God_ I didn't touch her. She just showed up, so I told her about you and said that she and I couldn't see each other anymore. I promise. I would have told you she was planning on stopping by if I would have known. Or else I would have asked her not to come—"

Bella cuts me off. "Edward?"

"Yeah?" I'm anxious as hell. I feel like we've just gotten started and I've already done something to fuck it all up.

"You say you didn't touch her?"

"I hugged her," I answer truthfully. "A goodbye hug. Because we won't be seeing each other anymore. I promise."

She nods. "And you don't _want_ to see her?"

I let out a shaky breath. "God no, Bella. No. It's just _you_ now. Only you."

Bella nods again, and she looks relieved. "It's just you, too," she replies. "And whatever you say happened, I still trust you."

I'm so shocked, so happy, that I kiss her. I kiss her so hard it's almost painful, pouring all of my relief and gratitude into this one act, and her passion equals my own. She pulls at my shirt, bringing me closer, and I know we're okay. We have each other, and we're okay.

Whatever life decides to throw at us, we can make it work. Together.

* * *

**A/N: Some people seem to think I'm abandoning this story all of a sudden, and I'm not sure why. I'm not taking any longer to update than I usually do. Plus, it's insanely close to being finished...just one more chapter and then the epi. I know, sad :'(**

**I'm not sure if she's still reading this story, but early on, Olinka helped me out a lot in the publishing/journalism department. She gets full credit for anything that makes even partial sense. I'm still all kinds of lost when it comes to this stuff. Thanks bunches, Olinka!**

**ms-ambrosia beta'd and passionmama preread. This story seriously wouldn't be the same without these two. Much love to them. Muah! Also, thank you thank you thank you for the reviews and rec's and love. And for checking out my new story. I feel all warm inside, and it has nothing to do with that half-pint of Tequila I chugged after work today. No really, thank you.**

**You can follow me on twitter at mybluesky1 for updates and teasers. See ya next time!**

**xoxo**


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Chapter 33

BPOV

I'm excited to see Edward. Separated from him for only one day, and I already miss him like crazy. Pathetic, I know.

He offered to come over, but I told him I wanted to work on my report. I was excited about it and was determined to spend every free moment writing until it was done. But without him here, everything just feels…off. And I find myself unable to concentrate, even more so than when he's touching my skin or kissing my shoulder.

I decide to surprise him, but I have a sinking feeling that intensifies as I drive closer to his house. I can't place it, but I know it has something to do with the ugly, shiny BMW parked in his driveway. I've never seen the car before, but it doesn't matter. My gut tells me not to like it. So I don't.

I hesitate in his driveway. I think about leaving, about assuming the worst and running away. But we've worked so hard on everything we've gained this past week. He's worked hard to gain my trust, and the least I can do is knock on the door and see what's going on.

I stall by the front door. I must stand here for a solid five minutes, debating and beating myself up over nothing. My hands feel like lead: too heavy to raise, too heavy to knock. I try listening for sounds from within – maybe moaning or screaming or something. But that would probably take place in the bedroom, unless they're doing it on the kitchen table. And the thought of him doing someone else on the kitchen table makes me nauseous. Even if it is a different table.

Oh, what the hell am I saying? Edward may be in there with a guy. It may be Emmett, for all I know. Maybe Emmett bought a new car that I don't know about.

But I still don't raise my hand. I still don't knock.

And then the door swings open.

A girl is standing there. She's beautiful. Tall, elegant, fashionable. Her teeth are really white. _Too _white. And she's standing way too close to Edward, who looks slightly horrified to see me here. His expression doesn't bode well for my insecurity over the situation, and I find myself shifting in place, my eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.

The girl speaks first. She introduces herself, and she seems excited to meet me. Excited and kind, but also a little sad. And she's Lauren.

_Lauren_. I want to throw up. I don't know her, but she knows Edward, and she's seen too much of him. I have half a mind to claw her eyes out so that she may never be able to see his glorious bits again, but that doesn't really seem like a legitimate reason to give the cops. Plus, you can still fuck someone when you're blind, which means if I'm going to get arrested, I should probably do it properly. But I sadly vowed during my youth that I would never kill anybody, no matter how skanky they are.

There's also that little bit about trusting Edward. And being mature. So going all Lisa Nowak on Lauren would probably be a bad idea, because it would make me look both distrusting _and _immature.

_Damn_.

Lauren is nothing but nice to me. When she leaves, Edward pulls me inside, an emotional wreck. He's seriously distressed over this, and I quickly appraise him as he spills his excuse. He doesn't smell like a woman. His lips aren't swollen. There are no lipstick smudges, though Lauren was _definitely _wearing some heavy makeup. There aren't any wrinkles in his clothes - they're neater than mine, actually, but that isn't really all that odd, because I suspect he orders the dry-cleaners to use half a can of starch on each shirt to ensure they don't lose their shape throughout the day. This way, the wrinkles are always kept at bay.

He's giving me no reason not to trust him. And that's what it's become between us – a matter of trust. We're rebuilding our relationship on this foundation, and if I can't trust him now, I can't expect us to make it weeks and months and years into the future.

And when he says it's only me now, I'm happy enough to cry.

-o-o-o-o-

The report I turn in goes over very well. Apparently, the author was pleased with what she saw and called to thank us, which in turn earned me some praise from the editor and a chance to write again. I'll be a full-time copy editor and part-time journalist, and while it's a small step, the news is thrilling.

"That's so fucking awesome, baby," Edward tells me later that night. He's sitting across from me at the kitchen table at my place; we're eating a grand, complicated dinner I decided to cook in celebration, and I didn't have to ask Edward twice before he agreed to come over. The best part is having him here.

"Thank you." I'm smiling, and my face is flushed from the excitement, but I don't care. "I was thinking of you when I did it. All of it."

Edward looks at me. "Oh?"

I nod. "You said if I wanted to be a writer then I needed to take that step somehow…even if it was small. I almost didn't volunteer, because it was kind of nerve-wracking, you know? But I did it and now it's opening up doors for me."

I smile, and Edward's returning grin is breathtaking. "I knew you could do it, Bella. You just have to have confidence in yourself."

"I do." At least I do now. "Thank you, Edward."

"You didn't have to cook, you know," he says. "We could have gone out to celebrate."

"I wanted to cook. I like staying in sometimes."

"What did you want to do after dinner?"

"We could watch a movie. I rented another funny one – _The Hangover_."

But we don't even make it to the couch, and the movie certainly never sees my DVD player. Instead, he holds my hips while I ride him, my cries muffled against his lips as he flips me over and pushes into me with long, steady strokes.

This is where I want to be.

-x-x-x-x-

It's a Thursday, and the day was long. Rose wants me to go with her to help find a dress for a dinner date with Emmett's parents. I agree, because we haven't spent much time together lately and, no matter how well Edward and I are getting along, I'm not keen on losing one of my closest friends.

It takes a total of three stores before she finds something that's even worth trying on, and then another four stores before she finds the dress she likes. I'm exhausted and complain the way I usually do while shopping and we stop at a local restaurant for food and drinks.

"Are you nervous about meeting his parents?" I ask her.

She pops a fry into her mouth. "No. Parents always love me."

I nod. She's always been full of confidence, and I envy her for it.

"Are you nervous about meeting Edward's parents?"

I shake my head. "I've already met them. Back when we were…you know."

She grins. "Oh, yeah. Do they know about all of that?"

God, I hope not. We can forget about good first - or even second - impressions. I'll never be able to weasel my way back into their good graces again. And while I doubt it's something Edward would broadcast, I'm not really sure whether Alice would say anything. "I don't know."

"Better make sure you ask Edward about it before you see them again," she warns me knowingly.

"Yeah, yeah." We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

I use the bathroom before we leave. When I'm exiting the room, I spot someone at the bar – the only person I know who has the ability to make my heart rate increase in pure panic. But I force myself to remain cool and slowly walk to my seat, my eyes glued to the back of his head even though I will myself to look away.

I'm almost at the table when he turns, his cold gray eyes meeting mine. And I freeze, unsure what to do.

His eyebrows raise in recognition and he grins, but it isn't pleasant or inviting. And it also doesn't last long, because there's a beautiful blond on his left that steals his attention away.

Rose has followed my line of vision and is out of her seat. We leave the restaurant in a hurry and the cold eyes don't seek mine again.

"Was that James?" Rose hisses once we're outside.

I quickly nod, still shaken. But he won't do anything to me…right?

_Don't be so fucking naïve, Bella_.

"Yes, and he freakin' saw me!" I tell her.

"I'll go back in and rip his dick off. I'll do it right there at the bar," she offers. There's no humor in her words.

"That'll just piss him off," I say, shaking my head. "I don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. He hasn't done anything to me."

"Lately," she mutters.

"Yeah, well. Maybe he's moved on to more interesting prey."

"Obviously. Did you see that chick on his arm? What are her boobs, like triple fucking Z's?"

"I'm not sure, but they were scary looking," I whisper.

Rose giggles and fondles her own breasts. "You can't beat al naturale."

We get into her car, and I turn to look at the restaurant as we pull away. It's been weeks since I've seen or heard from James – since the day I punched him in the face - and even now he isn't showing much interest in me. Maybe he really has moved on.

Nonetheless, I can completely sympathize with Alice's paranoia.

-o-o-o-o-

Alice comes to visit, and she and Edward get into a fight. I'm not even sure what it's about, but I can hear her screaming at him downstairs. I never hear him raise his voice, and eventually the door slams as she leaves.

I'm not sure if I should go downstairs or give him a moment. Before I can make up my mind, he storms into the room, snatching his tie off angrily and nearly strangling himself in the process. I keep my distance, because I never really know what to say to pissed off people. I usually always make things worse.

He doesn't look at me. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, practically ripping them through the holes.

Maybe I should say something.

No, no. I'll just make it worse.

But still…

"God, she infuriates me sometimes." He sits on the bed and puts his head in his hands. Taking a slow, heavy breath, he finally seems to relax a little.

I move to sit beside him, still cautious. "What happened?"

He sighs. "She wants to transfer to Texas."

I give him a moment. He's finally calm and I don't want him to get riled up again.

"Why?" I eventually ask, careful to keep my voice soft.

He shakes his head, taking a moment to answer. "Jasper got a job there. It's where he's originally from – his mom still lives there."

This makes sense. It's not uncommon to want to be near your family, though of course, this will put her further away from _her_ family. And I'm sure this is what bothers Edward. He rarely sees her as it is.

But he doesn't want to hear this. He doesn't want to hear me say that it's her decision to make, not his. Even if he was hoping she'd move back home.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is unpredictable. You do something expecting one response, but the resulting effect is completely unforeseen. There's no controlling it. There's no point in thinking that you can.

I rub his back soothingly. I don't say anything because I don't want him to feel worse.

He knows the truth. Deep down, he knows, and hearing me say it won't make it any easier.

I make us dinner and it's eaten in silence. When we finish, Edward helps me clean and load the dishwasher and then he trudges up the stairs after a brief thank you. He looks like his dog just died, and I hate feeling like there's nothing I can do to make it better.

It's silent for a while, and then I hear him taking a shower. After concluding that he's had an adequate amount of time to himself, I tiptoe up the stairs and push open the bathroom door. Steam pours out and, right on cue, the shower is turned off. He opens the door and grabs a towel and, while I know I shouldn't, I admire his naked body until it's covered with the thin material of the towel.

He sees me standing there and gives a small, halfhearted smile.

"I'm sorry," I say, and his smile falters. He shakes his head.

"It's fine."

He moves in front of me and smoothes my hair behind my ear. My eyes flutter closed automatically and then I feel his lips on my forehead, my nose, and then my lips.

The kiss is gentle at first, with closed mouths and gentle touches. His fingertips trail down my neck to my collar bone, and then suddenly his damp body presses into mine, pushing me backwards into the counter. The kiss deepens, his tongue pushing forcefully between my lips to slide against my own. I sigh into his mouth as he cups my face and pours every emotion – every bit of frustration, sadness, longing, and desperation – into that kiss. And I shoulder these things with him, and I understand, and this is how I help him.

Heated, wet kisses fall to my shoulder. "I need you, baby. I need you so fucking much."

His towel falls away, though I may have pulled it. He lifts me into his arms and I wrap my legs around him as he eases my weight onto the counter. He kisses me again, his breaths hot and heavy, before finally pushing away and carrying me out of the bathroom and to the bed.

My back hits the softness of his blankets and his body presses against mine. He kisses me everywhere, his lips only leaving my skin when necessary so that my shirt can be removed. He pulls my jeans away and then my panties soon after, each article quickly discarded on the floor. His lips skim along the sensitive skin of my stomach as his fingers stroke between my folds, the movement slow and deliberate, and two fingers enter my body at the same instant that his tongue touches my clit.

I gasp and arch off the bed, overwhelmed with the sensation. Minutes later, he crawls above me again and kisses me forcefully before sliding inside of me with one quick, fluid motion. I wrap my legs around his waist to accommodate him and he is forced deeper inside. This way, we move together as one combined, imperfect soul.

When we're both sated, he rests beside me with his head on my chest while I run careless fingers through his hair. Neither of us speaks for a short while.

But he finally wants to talk about it. In a measured voice, one so low I can barely hear, he says, "I worry about her."

I nod, even though his face is turned away and he cannot see. "She's your little sister. It's natural to worry."

He sighs. "I practically raised her, you know?"

But I don't know. "What do you mean?"

He hesitates before answering, either deep in thought or else getting his bearings. "She was only six years old when our mom died. It took her…well, it took her a long time to bounce back from that. I was practically the only person she trusted. I was the only one she would listen to."

I can't imagine losing a parent now, much less while so young. "How old were you?"

"Nine."

_Jesus Christ_.

I don't want to push him for anything he's not ready to tell me. I keep rubbing his hair, hoping to give comfort.

"We had to go live with Esme and Carlisle," he goes on. "It took her a long time to open up to them. It was hard."

I'm not sure I want to know the answer, but I ask anyway. "Where was your father?"

He chews on his lip for a moment. I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it, and I almost regret asking.

"You don't have to tell me. Sorry," I quickly murmur.

"It's fine," he whispers, and with a deep breath, he says, "He was in jail. He killed her. He said it was an accident, but he beat her so badly that she—that she-"

He's getting anxious. I try to soothe him, but he shifts against me, tugging me closer, and he apparently doesn't have the will to stop now that he's begun.

"He died soon after. Pneumonia or something. But it was probably his health issues from drinking. He saw a doctor once who told him he'd die if he didn't stop soon, but he didn't listen." He swallows, and I see his jaw clench. And then, "I can't say I was sad to see him go."

I hug him. I hug him as tightly as I can, and it's still not enough. I had no idea he was shouldering so much pain from his past.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," I whisper.

He doesn't look at me. He stares straight ahead, his head still resting on my chest, and what little I can see of his face is void of emotion.

"Do you think that's awful?" he finally asks me, and his voice holds the emotion that his face tries to hide. "I tried to care that he was gone, but I just…honestly? I was pissed off. For everything."

"Of course it's not awful, Edward," I quickly assure him. "He put you through a lot. He took away your mother…"

His eyes close and he sighs deeply. "I worried that I'd be like him," he goes on. "I didn't drink…I wouldn't touch the stuff. Then there was this girl in high school that I dated for a while. I liked her…she was the first person that I'd ever gotten close to."

I remain impartial, because this moment isn't about me and whatever petty insecurities I might have. This is his past, and from the sound of it, it's not a happy one.

"Okay," I say, my voice encouraging. Perhaps once it's all off his chest, he'll feel better. Freer.

"She cheated on me. A friend of mine encouraged me to get drunk…he said it would make me feel better. So I did. And then I confronted her, and I was angry, but not like…I wouldn't have _done_ anything. I wouldn't have _hit_ her." His voice is insistent. "But she got scared, and later she told me that she worried about it. I'm not sure why, because she didn't know about my father. But it got me to thinking…and I stressed over it. And I didn't get drunk again. And I just stopped making an effort. With women."

He looks at me, his eyes remorseful. And my heart bleeds for him, and I feel his pain.

"I drink," he tells me quickly. "I even get tipsy, but never completely trashed. I don't like…not being in control of myself." His words are slow. Careful.

"My dad was a decent person when he wasn't drinking. I mean he was _always_ drinking, but sometimes he drank enough to act _right_, while other times he got trashed. And that's when he would go after her."

I slide down so that we're eye level, pulling his body close. While he may have a hard time staring me in the eye during his confession, I want to assure him that all my words are true. That they're heartfelt, and that I don't think ill or judge him.

"But he's _not_ you, Edward," I say, silently imploring him to believe this. "You're not _him_. You're the guy who won't get drunk, the one who's never hit a woman. The one who was _ashamed_ of that behavior."

There's sadness in his eyes, but no moisture. He doesn't cry.

"I know," he says, and his voice sounds tired. "I've never acted like him or wanted to. I figured…I _hoped_…that maybe some of my mom's qualities overshadowed his."

"I'm sure they do, Edward. You're not a bad person."

"I'm worried about Alice, Bella. She's moving away from the only family she's ever had." He pauses briefly. "I was hoping she'd come back," he whispers.

I run my fingers down his nose, over his lips and chin, and he closes his eyes at my touch.

"It's natural to be worried," I assure him. "If your mother was here, I'm sure she'd be worried too. Esme and Carlisle are probably worried.

"But that doesn't mean you should try to hold her back or baby her because of what happened. She's a stronger person for it. She's an adult and can take care of herself, and she'll always have Jasper to lean on if things get hard. And of course she'll call and come visit."

Edward kisses me, and it's tender and careful and full of emotion. And though he doesn't say so, I can tell from his actions that I'm helping. It's in the way he holds me close and skims my nose with his own; it's in the way he plants soft kisses on my chin and simply enjoys the little bit of comfort I try to bring.

Time passes, and we lay together in silence while I continue to stroke his hair, soothing and reassuring.

And his words are low, but they sound crystal clear in the silence of the night.

"I love you, Bella."

And my returning response is the same.

"I love you too, Edward."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this chapter was a little sappy, but there's still an epi left which will bring us back to happy times. But yes, this is the last chapter, and like all final chapters, I've prepared an epically long and annoying A/N.**

***Ahem***

**First of all, special thanks to passionmama and ms-ambrosia for bringing out the best in this story. It would have been nothing without them...seriously, full of errors with corny jokes and awful plot twists. I love them both. And another special thanks to HeathersTwilight, who was my very first reviewer on FF and who pimped me out to all her friends and introduced me to some awesome people, some of which I even had the pleasure of meeting in RL. That's just...there's no words for how awesome it all is and how grateful I am for this fandom.**

**Second of all, thanks to all my readers and reviewers and everyone who pimped this story along the way. Bella Baby24 and KStew411 rec'd this fic back when it was just getting going and I'm almost certain at least 75% of my readers came from the rec of one or the other. And my reviewers...you guys really kept me going when I didn't feel like writing. Even my mean reviewers made me want to write harder and faster just to piss them off. A million thanks, because you guys make sharing this story much more enjoyable.**

**Finally, in regards to the story, I know a lot of you wanted Edward and Bella to team up and get back at James. That sounds great to me too, but it's not what I planned and I think it takes away from the characters in the story. They overcame doubts and weaknesses to become better people, and playing games on someone like James would take them back to their immature ways and cause them to lose what I feel is important to who they now are. Not only that, but I feel like it's foolish to provoke a person as coniving as James. Some of you may disagree - it is just a story, after all - but it's what I felt needed to happen. Sorry if I disappointed anyone with this. But w****e will hear a bit more about James in the epilogue, which will hopefully wrap up everything with a nice poofy bow.**

**Also, if you never saw them, both outtakes for this story are now on my profile. I'll no longer be sending them out via PM or review replies, so please check there.**

**I'm mybluesky1 on twitter, and I'm still not going away - feel free to check out my other story if you haven't already. Link is on the profile.**

**It's been a pleasure, and I'll catch ya at the epi. MUAH!**


	34. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight**

**A Betting Man**

Epilogue

"_In the presence of God, our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as sorrow."_

I take a deep breath and meet Edward's gaze, and he winks at me from across the aisle.

_"I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live."_

My eyes drift back to Rose, and I focus on how beautiful she looks in her beige silk dress with the red trimming, her hair hanging in wide, golden rings down her back. Her complexion is glowing, her eyes bright, and I don't think she's ever looked so lovely.

Also, Edward and I made a bet as to when Emmett would do something embarrassing. Because it wasn't really a matter of _if, _we decided. Edward guessed he would say something during his vows, but I wagered that it would be during or after the kiss. And it was easy thing to make, this bet. A simple little gesture between two people who care for each other that's no big deal, because he's everything to me now.

And bets aren't always so bad. They get me lots of back massages.

Emmett's eyes twinkle and he gets through his vows without a hitch. Edward catches my eye and smirks; he knows he's lost, but only if my intuition doesn't let me down.

And then it happens. Rose finishes her vows and she's suddenly being dipped backwards for an exaggerated kiss, the shock sending her leg flying into the air. She nearly takes out Emmett's cousin with her bare foot before her dress flips up with a tricky gust of wind and she flashes the entire party of groomsmen. They all step backwards in surprise and several eyes zone in on her hoohah before they shift away again in shame.

I hope she wore good underwear. But it's her wedding day - I think you're damned or something if you don't. Or maybe you just should be. I can't remember.

I suppress a grin, rejoicing over the back massage that's to come, and I see Edward shake his head in disbelief.

Emmett scoops Rose up and carries her down the aisle, but then has to come back again to take pictures. It's all very funny; neither can stop smiling and I'm not so sure Rose is even aware she flashed the entire male wedding party. Or else she just doesn't care.

Everyone is standing and excited as they congregate near the happy couple so that they can hug and give well wishes and talk. I feel someone brush against my arm, and I turn.

"Oh my God. Can you believe how gorgeous she looks?"

Alice can't control her smile; it dominates her tiny face, persistent and never wavering. She met Rose once before the wedding, and they hit it off right away. We went to lunch and then shopping and Alice spent hours upon hours scouring bridal magazines for ideas and dresses. The red rose pinned in Rosalie's gorgeous curls was all her doing, but her ideas were never imposed or unwanted. Rosalie was grateful for the help.

It's a shame Alice lives so far away in Texas.

"I know," I reply. "And Emmett doesn't look half bad himself."

"Tell me about it. Talk about a shocker. I never thought he'd clean up so well."

"Where's Jasper?" I ask, looking around. Alice just shrugs.

"Off talking to Edward somewhere, I think." She looks at me, her expression serious. "Have you and Edward gotten settled in yet?"

After months of discussion, Edward eventually gave up his home in Seattle in lieu of a large apartment in Tacoma. And though it terrified me to do so, I gave up my apartment and moved in with him.

Things made more sense this way. Always eager to spend our nights together, we found ourselves doing a lot of traveling in order to stay with each other at night and still make it to work in the morning. Tacoma is a beautiful city that serves as a good middle-ground; it's less than an hour's drive to Seattle and only a short half-hour drive to Olympia.

I was able to talk Edward into getting an apartment instead of a house, against his better judgment. It just seemed impractical to buy real-estate when we may not live there long. I've currently been seeking jobs near Olympia while Edward has talked of extending his company to Seattle. We've yet to find a final resting place, or to reach a final decision, but the process has been a happy and worthwhile experience. I've never been happier than now, living in Tacoma with Edward, even if we are missing out on the joys of equity that he insists accompany home-ownership.

"Oh yeah. Nearly everything is unpacked," I confirm with a nod, and Alice smiles happily.

When the pictures are finished, we pile into our cars and drive to Rose's parents' house for the reception. It's all kind of surreal, seeing Rose get married. It's not something we ever really talked about; I never imagined her in a shiny dress with flawless makeup, her hair blowing in the Washington breeze as the sun sets on the coast. I never contemplated the feel of crushed seashells and sand beneath my bare feet as I stand beside her, the taste of salt in the air as my dress bunches and blows around my knees. And yet it's perfect, and everything I would have hoped for my best friend and more. And she's so happy it makes my heart ache.

We park on the street outside Rose's house and it's just me and Edward inside his car as he leans over to kiss my neck. Goosebumps erupt on my flesh before I slip away and let myself out of the car, a smile permanently plastered on my face.

Edward joins me, stepping onto the cool pavement. We've both put on the shoes we brought and the bottom of his pants are slightly damp from the wet sand, even though they were rolled up for the majority of the wedding. They must have dragged against the ground at some point.

"What, I don't get anything?" he pouts at me. I roll my eyes and take his hand before leading him down the paved driveway.

"You're a very greedy best man," I say. "It's not like you won't have me to yourself tonight."

He releases my hand and pulls at a strand of hair that's fallen from my twist. "I guess I can be good," he says, and the words are low and hot in my ear. I shudder just as the wooden gate is wrenched open and I'm ushered into the backyard, his hand on my back guiding the way.

Rosalie's parents have outdone themselves. The entire backyard is decorated with paper lanterns and matching red and beige silk ribbons; a live band is set up by the pool, a mellow Reggae pouring from their instruments. There are small tables with two chairs each, a skinny vase with a white lily set in the center, and an elegant table covered in hors d'oeuvres and a chocolate fountain. Rose's father is currently grilling steaks and shrimp over his massive gas grill, the smell wafting through the yard and even discernable near Edward's car.

We mingle and dance, and Edward gives a toast to the couple about good times past and good years to come - about the joys of finding someone to trust, someone to love, and his eyes meet mine with nearly every heartfelt word.

When it's late, and Rose and Emmett are saying their goodbyes, I excuse myself to the bathroom and disappear inside the massive three-story house. Their home is quiet and empty and pristinely clean, and I easily find the bathroom in the long hallway, my memory serving as my guide. It's locked, so I patiently wait on the other side of the door.

When it finally opens a tall, pale woman with a peak of fiery red hair steps out. She sees me and smiles, quickly excusing herself from the door.

Her face is familiar, but I can't place where I've seen her before.

"Hey…you're Bella Swan, right?"

I turn in surprise, because I remember her voice. And suddenly, I remember _her_.

"Victoria Burns?"

I went to high school with Victoria Burns, but she was heavier then and used to dye her hair an awful blonde. With her pale eyes and translucent skin, the resulting look was washed out and unattractive. She was hardly noticed and seemed to prefer it that way, often hovering behind notebooks and art projects and always preferring to eat alone.

But things are different now. _Now_, she's gorgeous, a tall, slim figure with full lips and perfect skin. Her smile lights up her entire face, her pale eyes stunning as she gazes down at me with a pleasant expression.

I'm taken aback by how much she's changed.

"The one and only," is her easy reply.

"You look great," I say quickly, smiling. "How have you been?"

"I've been good. I've actually been working in the art gallery on Pike Place for a few years."

"That's wonderful. You've always had such an interest in art," I say. "I didn't realize you and Rose were still in touch."

"Well it's kind of funny, but I actually just ran into her and her husband last week at a coffee shop downtown," she tells me, and I think of how funny it sounds hearing of Rose's _husband_. "She told me how she was getting married and invited me to the wedding…said we could catch up later after the honeymoon. She was always very nice to me."

This is true. Rosalie hasn't always been nice to every stranger, nor every classmate in high school, but she once defended Victoria when a guy called her the love child of Carrot Top and Rosie O'Donnell and made her cry. Rose said _no one_ deserved to be called the love child of Rosie O'Donnell. _No one_.

"Well it's really nice to see you," I say truthfully. "It's been a while. Maybe we can get lunch sometime."

"I'd like that."

I move to pass her, but her voice stops me again. "Bella…I heard you dated James?"

I turn to look at her, suddenly wary and admittedly curious. "Yeah?"

Her accompanying smile is shy and a little sheepish. "I dated him for a little while, too," she tells me. "A few months ago. I ended up hearing about you from one of his friends."

"Okay," I say slowly, unsure where she's going with this. "Well, I hope he was better to you than he was to me." I don't count on this, but I really don't know what else to say.

"He wasn't, actually," she says with a chuckle, but there's no humor in her voice. "He was always trying to move our relationship really fast. I didn't want to, not really, but I…" She trails off and looks ashamed. I immediately feel sorry for her.

"God, Victoria. I'm sorry," I say sincerely. I can't even imagine what the ass did to her.

"It's fine," she says, waving off my concern. "I'm fine. We were actually good for a few weeks, but then things got kind of ugly and we broke it off. What I really wanted to tell you was that he's in prison now."

"Really?" I ask, unable to contain my pleasure. But I can't celebrate until I know what the creep was put away for. "What did he do?"

"Insider trading," she says, shaking her head in disbelief. "Can you believe it? I had no idea he was even into that kind of thing. Apparently he was doing it the entire time we were together."

Insider trading. Wow, that's…sophisticated, considering it was done by a guy like James.

Well, technically, he must not have been sophisticated enough to pull it off. He did get caught, after all.

Sophisticated and James really don't belong in the same sentence. Ever.

"Do you know how long his sentence is for?" I ask hopefully. Even life without parole would be too soon, but I know I could never get so lucky.

"Nine years with parole. He'll probably get out before then, but…you never know. Maybe it'll do him some good."

_Right_. I've seen the movies. People in prison lift weights and get tattoos via ink pens, and then when they get out they hijack planes or murder their husbands. I'm no fool. James is to never be trusted.

"Well I'm sorry you've had to go through everything with him," I say, my voice sincere. "We really should get together soon. Apparently we have a lot in common." I smile to let her know I mean this in the best possible way, and her expression mirrors my own.

"I saw you with that guy," she says. "You seem really happy together."

I can't help but bite my lip and grin in return. "Yeah," I reply. "We are."

-o-o-

"Remember, she eats a _lot_, so if she bugs the shit out of you all day then just throw some wet cat food down and after a while she'll get so full she just passes out."

"I know, Emmett, I know. I've got this."

I've heard these instructions before, but Emmett is overly anxious and feels the need to repeat himself. But I figure if I can handle one fat cat, I can handle them all.

"And if that doesn't work, just give her a little catnip. She'll get stoned and pass out for half the day. It really mellows her out."

"She heard you the first fifteen times, Emmett," Rose suddenly snaps. They're saying their last goodbyes and getting ready to load into the car, where they'll drive to Seattle and stay at a hotel for the night. Tomorrow, they'll board a plan and fly to Greece for their honeymoon.

"I'm just making sure, Rose," he argues, irritated. "She's never taken care of little Heidi before."

Emmett named the cat Heidi after Heidi Klum. How any cat shat from Ursula's big ass could be compared to Heidi Klum, I'll never know. And it already seems like an oxymoron, considering Heidi is already over twenty pounds and just as round and angry looking as her mother. But Emmett loves her just the same.

I think he has some sort of secret fat cat fetish. He literally pounced on Ursula's kittens when he found out she was pregnant, adopting Heidi and bringing her home without even asking Rose first. Of course, Rose was pissed off and told him he'd have to return her, but apparently fat cats are much cuter when they're babies and the ball of fur grew on her.

Now I'm stuck cat-sitting, and I'm getting nightmarish flashbacks as I remember the clogged toilet and near suffocation in the middle of the night. I really need to remember to lock the bedroom door this time.

"You ready to go?" Edward's arm slides around me and he kisses my temple affectionately.

I no longer hear Em and Rose bickering, so I turn around and discover they're practically making out against the side of her car. And their parents are here! But on a more scandalous note, they must have some pretty awesome makeup sex. God knows it has to be frequent, considering all the arguing they do.

"Oh gross," I whisper to Edward, but I can't stop smiling at their embarrassing display. "You'd think they'd at least wait until they got to the hotel."

"They're newlyweds, Bella. They're allowed to be disgusting."

"I guess. It's no longer a sin, anyway."

Edward looks at me, incredulous. "You're worried about being a sinner now?"

I match his stare. "Are you saying I'm not allowed to worry over my sins?"

He leans forward, his breath hot against my ear. "No. I'm just saying it's a shame, because I plan on doing some very…_sinful_…things to you tonight."

I shiver, and suddenly waiting around for the Tommy Lee twins to peel themselves away from Rose's car is no longer an option. I grab Edward's hand and pull him towards the horny duo so that we can say goodbye and get the hell out of here.

"No more talking, Edward. Let's _go_."

-o-o-

We can hear Heidi howling through the door when we get back to the apartment. She's pacing around the room and I guess she's hungry or something, so I have to stop and feed her before our sinful acts can occur. I imagine this is what it would be like to have kids – there would always be someone around howling over food while constantly being a clitblocker. I think I'm starting to get flashes of my future.

As long as Edward never insists on adopting any of Ursula's kittens, I should be fine.

I set Heidi's food on the floor, and Edward is behind me before I even stand back up. He brushes my hair to one side and kisses my bare shoulder, then my neck before murmuring, "Have I told you how beautiful you look in this dress?"

I shudder before turning and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His green eyes are scorching.

"Have I told you how hot you look in this linen suit?"

I pull at his collar while he kisses me, and then I begin unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth presses against mine, hard and insistent, and soon his clothes are being discarded as I push him towards the bedroom, far from Heidi's smacking.

By time we're in front of the bed, he's wearing only his boxers. Her turns me around and pushes my hair aside again, then slowly begins lowering the zipper of my dress. He pushes the silk material off my shoulders and it falls at a puddle around my feet.

I slip off my shoes before I'm pushed onto the bed, his lips still hot against my own. I can feel my heart racing, my breathing accelerate as he showers heated kisses along my skin - from my neck, down my chest, to the lace-clad fabric of my strapless bra.

He kisses my nipple through the fabric. My hands wind through his hair, holding him to me.

"We'll have to go to church and repent after our sinful acts tonight," he murmurs, and I can't hide the smile that appears. I'm very much looking forward to it.

"I want to try something new tonight," Edward says suddenly, and he brings his face back to mine so that only inches separate our lips. His eyes meet mine and I can see the heat, the sincerity that they hold.

"Okay," I say eagerly, bringing my fingers up to touch the stubble of his chin. I love trying new things with him. "What did you have in mind?"

"Do you trust me?"

I frown at him, slightly confused, but nod my head nonetheless. Of course I trust him; that's what we've worked on all these months. We've worked on being honest, on building a foundation in our relationship on which we both can rely and be comfortable.

Edward leans over and opens the drawer of the bedside table, reaching towards the back before eventually pulling out something shiny and silver. But these are different; they're padded, the cloth around the metal serving as a protective barrier, and the sight of them creates excitement instead of the anguish that haunted me before.

He holds the handcuffs in front of me, and I know he wants to hear me say it.

I give another nod and meet his eyes, and my decision never wavers.

"Yes, Edward. Of course I trust you."

His resulting smile is wicked, and I bite my lip, anxious to begin the fun.

* * *

***Wipes eyes* I can't believe it's actually over. Thanks to everyone for all your kind words while writing this story. You truly, truly made this an enjoyeable experience. I feel like I've learned a ton. Writing school papers are a fucking breeze now - I mean, what more could I ask for? And my thank you's from last chapter still stand. ms-ambrosia and passionmama did their thang with this chapter, as usual, and I'd be nothing but a confused, gramatically incorrect mess without them.**

**I got the wedding vows from here: http:/(slash)weddings(dot)about(dot)com/cs/bridesandgrooms/a/vowwording(dot)htm**

**I'm mybluesky1 on twitter, where I'll give teasers and updates on my new story. Hope to see you all around.**

**MUAH!**

**xo**


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